Partition
by anastasia.rosephoenix
Summary: In the aftermath of the Ultron Offensive, Wanda Maximoff is trying to adjust to her new life as an Avenger. As she slowly grows close to the Captain himself, Wanda discovers that he is trying to locate his best friend, Bucky Barnes. Suddenly, Wanda is faced with an inner predicament: the aching feeling that she has met Bucky before. Sequel to IN DAYS OF YORE. Full summary inside.
1. Chapter 1

**Complete summary:** In the aftermath of the Ultron Offensive, Wanda Maximoff is trying to adjust to her new life as an Avenger. As she slowly grows close to the Captain himself, Wanda discovers that he is trying to locate his best friend, Bucky Barnes. Suddenly, Wanda is faced with an inner predicament: the aching feeling that she has met Bucky before. When Bucky is finally found, via being framed for the UN Vienna conference bombing, Wanda tags along with Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson to get him back – a decision that divides the Avengers right down the middle.

 **Characters:** Wanda Maximoff, Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, Tony Stark, Vision, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, Clint Barton, T'Challa, Scott Lang, Peter Parker, Sharon Carter, Maria Hill, Nick Fury, Brock Rumlow, Helmut Zemo, Thaddeus "Thunderbolt" Ross, Everett K. Ross, Pepper Potts, Jane Foster, Laura Barton

 **Setting:** June 2015 - June 2016

* * *

 **June 2015 – New Avengers Facility, Upstate New York**

Once Wanda Maximoff took a step outside, the hot summer humidity instantly dampened her skin. If it was any other day, she would've gone right back inside and taken refuge in the coolness of the A/C. Sokovian summers were one thing, but New York summers were a whole different beast. The heat was simply suffocating, and Wanda hated feeling that way. She kept her head low and sweat was already forming in the crease of her forehead and above her lip as she continued downhill.

Today marked the first month anniversary of her twin brother Pietro's death.

Right after the Ultron Offensive, Wanda started arranging the burial. She was against having him buried in their native Sokovia – not when that place held so much pain and sorrow. She also knew he wouldn't mind not being buried in Sokovia, which brought her some peace of mind. She then thought of cremation, but it made her mad to think of her brother's body reduced to ashes.

Then Tony Stark and Steve Rogers suggested that Pietro be buried on the property of the New Avengers Facility. Wanda cried for three straight nights.

"It's the _least_ we can do," Steve smiled.

"Cocky and annoying he might've been, but he is deserving of the honor," Tony concurred.

And so, Pietro Maximoff was interred as an Avenger on a warm May afternoon within the hundred acres of the facility. Steve, Tony, Clint Barton, Sam Wilson, James "Rhodey" Rhodes, and Nick Fury served as pallbearers. The men carried the silver metal casket down the grassy hills to the awaiting tombstone. Wanda, dressed out fully in black topped off with a veil over her dried round face, followed in solemn silence. In tow were Natasha Romanoff, Maria Hill, Pepper Potts, Jane Foster and finally Laura Barton, who was carrying her infant son Nathaniel Pietro Barton. As per the Eastern Orthodox religion, the coffin was reopened one last time. An already fatigued Wanda nearly fainted when she saw her brother's pale face, and had to be held by Steve and Natasha for the duration of the service.

A month later, and Wanda was still trembling as she had that day walking to the gravesite.

Suddenly, no matter how much heat the sun's rays were bringing, she felt cold. She bit her lip, a chill going up her spine as the tombstone came into view. She wrapped her arms over her chest and swallowed to keep from sobbing.

Wanda kept a few feet away from the tombstone. It was simply scripted with his name: Pietro Django Maximoff. No date of birth or death – Wanda had a feeling that he would rather be remembered as a man who gave up his life protecting humanity, rather than a twenty-something whose life was cut short.

Her mouth twitched; she still thought it was odd to talk aloud.

"Hello again," she whispered as she sat crisscross on the warm grass. Wanda's head remained low, her shoulders hunched over. She was glad that the surrounding trees were shielding her from the bright sun, though it didn't help the growing shivers in her arms, which was covered in goosebumps.

"I know I haven't come back here since… you know," she started. "But I'm going to tell you why. I'm officially an Avenger –" Wanda momentarily giggled as she imagined the shock on her brother's face. "Who would have thought, _me_ , as an Avenger? Not me, and certainly not you! But am I. I'm still getting used to the whole title thing, and I still haven't gone in any undercover missions or things like that. I've just been training with Steve, Natasha, Sam and Maria. And let me tell you, I don't think I will _ever_ be as good and skilled as them."

She was quiet for a couple seconds, nonchalantly picking at the grass roots.

"It will also take some getting used to living here in America. Again, who would have thought that I would be making my life here?" Wanda scoffed, and then gently added, "Or you be buried here." She shook her head to stop from getting emotional. "I think you would have liked it here. Every country has its problems, but this is not Sokovia. I can understand now why I hated America so much. A part of me was jealous. Jealous that their people weren't going through what we were. Jealous of the freedom that a democracy offers. America is everything that Sokovia is not, and I hated that.

"I don't feel that way now. In fact, I don't feel any hate for anyone or thing. What is the use of hate in a life when you get a second chance at it? I should be in prison, or worse, but I have been giving a miraculous second chance and I won't take advantage of it. I am going to enjoy, as much as I can. For the both of us."

Wanda raised her eyes and stared at the tombstone. Her throat became dry, and it wasn't because of the simmering heat. Her stomach felt heavy.

She extended her hand and barely touched the stone with her fingertips. It was mildly cool. She bit down hard on her lip, but it didn't do anything to the trembling that was wrecking her body. She had promised herself she wouldn't cry, but sitting there, speaking with her dead brother, how could she not?

" _И мисс иоу брата_ (I miss you brother)," Wanda choked out. " _Дакле, толико_ (So, so much)."

The lone twin stayed for some more minutes, thinking back on the millions of memories she had of Pietro. She missed everything about him – his cockiness, his self-assuring ego, his teasing and womanizing ways, his hugs, his kisses on her hair, his protectiveness. He was the last person on the planet whom she truly loved, who she would have done anything for, from good to bad, to keep him safe.

Her better half was gone. Without him, nothing really made sense. The Avengers were there to keep her breathing and fighting, but it was all she could take. Because part of her is dead, buried in the dirt with Pietro. She'll never be the same.

A slight vibration brought Wanda out of her grief-filled reverie. She wiped off some tears and dug into her workout jacket pocket to grab the high-tech cell phone provided by Stark.

It was a text message from Steve.

 _Coming to practice?_

Wanda sighed, and turned to the tombstone.

"Captain calls," she said as she waved the phone in the air with a sad smile. " _До следећег пута, љубави_ (Till next time, my love)."

Wanda leaned forward to kiss the top of the stone, sniffed, and jogged back to the facility without looking back. She was glad that when she entered the training room with red eyes and a stuffed nose, no one asked her. They all knew.

* * *

 **July 2015 – Barton homestead**

For Independence Day weekend, Wanda joined Natasha off to the reclusive Barton farm. Wanda initially felt a tinge of guilt leaving Steve alone for his birthday (no one turns 97 twice), but as Sam had so eloquently affirmed to her – "Oh you better _believe_ that he won't be alone; he doesn't _even_ know what's gonna hit him!" – then she realized that it might have actually been a _very_ good idea that the facility would be left to the boys.

Once the little two-story farmhouse came into view from the long-winded road, Wanda couldn't stop smiling. It was so simple yet so picturesque. It was everything that she had envisioned about a farm: a white front porch, green shutters adoring every window on worn-out pale yellow paint foundation, endless lands of grass and trees surrounding it, and of course, an American flag waving smoothly against the wind. The only thing missing was the actual barn and livestock.

The Barton children, Lila and Cooper, were lively, energetic and carefree. While welcoming to Wanda, they unknowingly also provided painful memories of her and her own brother as kids. They were mirror images of the young Maximoff twins. Raised by a loving mother in Laura and a hard-working father in Clint, just like Marya and Django Maximoff. Wanda deeply enjoyed their company, but sometimes it just became too much for her to handle. The innocent aura that radiated off them was so sacred and so immaculate that it often overwhelmed her, forcing her to excuse herself. She didn't want to cry in front of them, didn't want them to experience suffering just yet. Unlike her and Pietro, whose childhood came to a horrific end at age ten, these little ones deserved to grow up in their own skin and not be thrown into the fire without any guidance.

Wanda also liked that the children naturally floated to their Aunt Natasha. It was quite a sight seeing the redhead, a world-renowned spy and assassin, melt into putty at the feet of Lila and Cooper. Anything they asked for her, she did it and more. Whether it was playing outside for four hours straight in the dirt, to playing a football videogame with Cooper or competing with Lila on Just Dance, Natasha was at their beck and call. Wanda knew that Natasha's avid interaction with them came from inability to have her own children; she could practically feel the longing that Natasha exuded whenever the kids were in her arms. This made Wanda want to leave the room, because she felt intrusive at knowing just how much Natasha wanted the chance of motherhood.

It was in those times that Wanda went to curl up with little Nathaniel Pietro. Just like Natasha and the two elder Barton siblings, Wanda drifted to the youngest. It does have something to do with him being Pietro's namesake, but he was also the most cuddliest, the most bubbly and precious baby she had ever laid eyes on. With him, Wanda felt totally at ease. She forgot about the Avengers, Ultron, everything that had ever bothered her. Nathaniel was the epitome of ethereal chastity, and Wanda wanted to get lost in that unsullied world. She felt protected by Nathaniel in that sense, which the total opposite when concerning Lila and Cooper. She actually believed that with Nathaniel living, nothing would harm Wanda again. It was foolish thinking, but Wanda thought it was better to believe that than to believe in nothing. She'd go crazy if she didn't have someone else to hold onto.

~.~

A planned weekend stay lulled into an entire week. And it quite an eventful one for Wanda.

It was her first Fourth of July, and having watched several American films, she had an idea of what to expect of the festive holiday. Clint woke up everyone by bellowing "The Star-Spangled Banner" while waving two miniature flags. For lunch, they had a barbeque and a picnic filled with food that Wanda had always heard of, like apple pie, peach cobbler, potato salad, and macaroni and cheese, but had never tasted. She found she especially liked Clint's baby back ribs and Laura's flag-designed cheesecake.

Afterwards, they retired into the house until it was evening. Lila and Cooper played around with firecrackers, and then Clint and Natasha helped arrange the fireworks. As it went off, one by one, colorizing the twilight sky in bright red, blue and white sparks, Wanda didn't think of anything. She simply laid back on the blanket strewn on the dry grass and just looked up, enjoying the sound of the kids' laughter. The loud, quick blasts of the fireworks droned off in the background as Wanda soaked in the placid family moment. She wanted to remember the sensation of feeling totally serene, the absence of world salvation on her shoulders, even if for a second.

She wrinkled her nose at the distant noise of shuffling feet growing from her left.

"Are you feeling okay, Wanda?" she heard Laura ask her. She didn't miss the slight worry edge from her question, and for once, she appreciated Laura's instinctual mother tendencies. Wanda never much liked it when Pietro did it, but now that he was gone, she found herself liking Laura a lot because of it.

Without opening her eyes, she smiled and simply replied, "Yes."

For in that moment, nothing could ruin the waves of peacefulness, a first since Pietro's death.

~.~

On their last night at the farm, Wanda was finally able to wash the dishes after dinner. The Bartons' never-ending hospitality had managed to break for Natasha twice, but they refused to allow Wanda to be near the kitchen. So, she was quite relieved when Laura relented, but of course Clint joined in tune with his wife by opting to help dry.

A summer quiet befell around the house as Laura went to put the kids to sleep and Natasha retreated into her room. There was the occasional chirp of the insects coming through the half-opened window in front of the sink.

"I know we haven't been given much time to talk in between us, but I'm glad you came, Wanda," Clint said.

Wanda smiled. "Me too. You have a beautiful family."

Clint shrugged, though Wanda saw the immediate sparkle in his dark eyes. "Some of us are lucky, others aren't. I'm just thankful to keep them safe."

"You have done that, and so much more," she answered, handing him wet silverware. She thought it was amazing that he could manage to keep them out of harm's way for so many years, given his profession.

"Yeah, but don't think I'm fooled. Luck's been involved, too, and I won't take advantage of that. Not when you're standin' there, remindin' me."

Wanda swallowed. Clint, sensing her ridge, slowly took the plate from her slightly trembling hand and sandwiched it in between his hard-skinned ones. She kept her head low though she knew if she stayed in that stance, tears would fall.

"I'm sorry to bring that up… but it's true. I'm alive because of Pietro, and you don't know how much I thank him for each day that I'm breathing and in the company of my family. I thank him because he stopped my luck from running out. And you remind me of that, of _him_ and his sacrifice.

"So if you ever need anything, and I mean _anything_ , don't hesitate. Call me. You know how to reach me. Your brother died protectin' me, and there's nothin' on this Earth that I could repay him except keepin' his sister safe."

Wanda stared at him, a ghost of a smile forming on her lips as her eyes reddened in emotion.

"It's all I _can_ do," he added solemnly.

She nodded once and thought about hugging him, but held back. Her hands were damp, and she didn't want to get his shirt wet, even if he didn't care. He released her hand and swiftly returned to drying off the remaining plates. Wanda sighed softly under her breath, the smile twitching to widen at the corners.

* * *

 **New Avengers Facility**

When Wanda and Natasha returned to the facility, they were rather alarmed and amused at seeing a disheveled Sam, in full Falcon gear, arguing silently with two security men. When one of them caught sight of the women, he nudged Sam on the shoulder and with large eyes, flicked his shin behind Sam.

"Is something wrong?" Natasha asked with a playful smirk as she crossed her arms over her chest.

Sam, looking like a child caught taking a cookie out of the jar, whispered for the men to go before turning his attention to the women and trying, though failing, to regain his composure.

"Uh, nah, what makes you think that somethin' is wrong? Nothing is wrong. Cap left me in charge because he knows nothin' would go wrong, and nothin' _has_ gone wrong," Sam babbled.

Wanda had to look away; she didn't want to add on to the salt by laughing in Sam's face. Obviously, something had gone wrong, because the place was strangely actively with security running around them, as if someone had broken in. Natasha immediately sensed the same thing, and before Sam could say another word, she called upon F.R.I.D.A.Y.

After learning what had transpired just minutes before their arrival, Wanda and Natasha simply gave Sam an eyebrow lift.

* * *

 **Author's Note:** This is the sequel to _In Days of Yore_ , which ended with HYDRA removing memories of Wanda and Bucky ever meeting. Because of that, this fic begins like _In Days of Yore_ never happened, and follows exactly what happens in _The Winter Soldier_ and _Age of Ultron_. It's through the events leading to _Civil War_ that changes, because both Wanda and Bucky will start remembering of what HYDRA did to them, and more specifically, what they meant to one another.


	2. Chapter 2

**July 2015 – New Avengers Facility, Upstate New York**

Ever the early riser, Wanda beat her alarm clock before it could ring. She stretched her arms into air, feeling her heavy lids straining at the tiniest of sunlight peering through her windows. She let out a long yawn and was quick to regret the lack of sleep. She had tossed and turned the entire night, and she assumed that it well after 3am when she succumbed into the unconsciousness. She was to work out the day with only four hours of sleep.

" _Сјајно_ (just great)," she muttered.

But she knew exactly why it took her forever to fall asleep.

Wanda glanced at her bedside table, which was adorned with a framed picture of Pietro and her as teens. It was one of only two photos that she had somehow managed to keep amid the hell she had gone through since the death of her parents. It was the only thing she had left of her family, besides the memories.

And for the first time ever, she was spending her birthday without _any_ of them.

* * *

"Happy birthday girl!" Sam hollered as he gave Wanda a bear hug from behind, nearly spilling her coffee as he momentarily lifted her off her feet. "Or, as you would say, _срећан рођендан_ (happy birthday)," he added with a proud grin.

From the couch, Natasha scoffed. "How long did it take you memorize that?"

"I'll have you know that I am a master of languages, thank you very much," Sam eloquently replied. Natasha rolled her eyes and continued scrolling through the newsfeed on her iPad.

"Thank you, Sam," Wanda sheepishly responded, trying to stop a smile from breaking out.

"What are your intentions for today?" Vision asked.

Wanda gulped, her eyes widening from above the rim of her mug. She had thought the last couple of days what she wanted to do, and she realized that she didn't want to make a spectacle of it. She didn't want a party or even a small gathering. She just wanted it to be a normal day. It just felt too different celebrating it without Pietro.

She swallowed and shrugged, replying softly, "Nothing special."

"Nothing special?" Sam repeated. "C'mon, Wanda, it's your 21st birthday! There must be something you wanna do!"

"It's not just her birthday, Sam," Vision said, throwing Wanda an understanding look. She returned him a small smile.

The saddening realization hit Sam, and he sighed. "Oh, right. Sorry, Wand," he apologized.

Wanda shook her head, who lifted her free hand and rested it on Sam's shoulder in an effort to comfort him. She nearly laughed at this thought – her coming to the rescue and offering comfort to him instead of the way around. Funny, indeed. "It is alright. I just… want it to be like any other day, okay?"

Sam appeared like he wanted to say something else, but the clear distance in those green eyes was enough for him to back down. If that's what she wanted, then he would be able to make it seem like she would get it. "You got it, Maximoff."

She smiled another small smile and excused herself. Once she was out of earshot, a conflicted Sam took a seat on the stool next to the island table and rubbed his temple. He found himself wanting to punch Stark for even arranging the whole thing without Wanda's permission, surprise or not.

"What is it now?" Natasha drawled without looking up.

"You heard her, Nat. She doesn't want a party for obvious reasons. I know it sounds crazy coming from me, but maybe we should just cancel it," he exasperated.

After a second, Natasha sighed and placed the iPad down on her lap, staring at the windows in front of her. "First of all, it's not a party. It's just the team. And second, it can do her some good. Yes, it'll remind her that her brother is gone, but she still has us."

Sam nodded absentmindedly. Natasha might have a point, but still. The look Wanda gave him had completely changed his stance on the party, or gathering, or whatever. He wanted Wanda happy, but he also didn't want her crying for her brother at her birthday party. Perhaps it was asking too much of her.

Sam raised his head and focused on the android standing next to him, arms wrapped around his vest-covered chest, seemingly deep in thought. "What do you think, Vision? You talk to her more than any of us."

Vision considerate his words; even he was unsure of what was the right thing to do in the current situation. "Well, it has just been two months. A big party would have certainly been inappropriate given the magnitude of her loss, but… since it will be just the team, people she has come to trust in, and not an outsider who knows nothing of her or what she has gone through, I believe it's the only solution in a sensitive matter such as this."

Natasha acquiesced, "Well said, Vision."

* * *

Wanda's body was flat against the warm grass, a thin light blue blanket laying beneath her body. It was yet another hot day, and though the shade the large trees around her didn't do much to lessen the heat, she didn't care.

Already dressed with her sparring outfit, she attempted to relax as much as she could. She stared at the blue sky through her sunglasses, arms bent at the elbow with her hands tucked behind her head. She laid next to Pietro's tombstone, softly talking to her deceased brother on their birthday

"… I did not have to look into their heads to know that they are planning something. Or want to plan something. You know I have never been a party girl. You did, but not me, no. It is kind of them, but it is unnecessary. And I know what you would say, that I need, uh what was that phrase you used… 'need to live a little'? Well, I'm 21. I have – hopefully – plenty of years to 'live a little.' I just… it doesn't feel right to celebrate. Not without you."

Wanda bit her bottom lip. She didn't want to cry. She knew Pietro would berate her if she did. But it was just _so_ hard. She missed him so, so much. She had never imagined spending her birthday without him. Not this early into her life.

"But because you loved parties, _пакао_ (hell), you _lived_ for them, I guess if they do have some type of party, I will… I will have no choice but to attend. I will do that for you. Everything I do on from now on, it will be for you."

Wanda had been thinking about that for a while now. Steve and Clint had mentioned it; so had Natasha and Laura. That despite Pietro not being there anymore, he was living through Wanda. That she could dedicate her life to a path, a purpose that Pietro would've taken himself. A life of using her powers for the greater good. To defend the innocents against the evils that surrounded them.

She hadn't gone a mission yet, so the concept hadn't crossed her mind entirely. But now that it was, it resonated deeply with her. She knew how much it meant for Pietro to be a part of the Avengers, even if it was brief and he didn't display it. She knew that he enjoyed, no, _thrived_ , in the idea that he could be a hero. With the powers he was gifted, Wanda was very aware that using them to protect people was something Pietro had intimately craved.

And he achieved that. No matter how short it lasted, he achieved it. She knew, because that is what she sensed at the moment of his death. Saving Clint and the little Sokovian boy from an onslaught of bullets. He died saving lives, and he accepted it, because then his death wasn't in vain. He died doing the right thing. And Wanda felt a duty to honor that sacrifice. There was no other way. Only to carry on Pietro's name through her actions, to represent not only herself but him. They were now one whole, joined together till the end of her days.

Wanda rose from the blanket, pushing her legs underneath her. She took off her sunglasses and lightly touched the side of the onyx white marble stone.

" _Нећу вас изневерити. Обећавам._ (I won't let you down. I promise.)" she said.

* * *

Wanda spent the rest of the afternoon sparring with Natasha and Sam. She was getting better on both her offensive and defensive maneuvers, but it was grossly apparent that there was still much work to do. She liked it, though. She wanted to know everything about hand-to-hand combat. As Steve had stressed out to her on the first day of practice: just because she has her powers, doesn't mean she will always have them. There could come a day when her powers are stripped by any sort of enemy, and then what would she be left to defend herself with?

All in all, the practices were tough and exhausting. They were brutal with Steve, who didn't hold back on his superhuman strength. They were arduous and kind of distracting with Sam and Rhodey, whose Air Force trainings were put on display. They were swift and sneaky with Natasha, as expected from someone who was trained by the KGB in the infamous Red Room. She never fought with Vision, because that would require her using her powers. But she appreciated his advices, as his omnipresent knowledge prove valuable on certain battle moves.

Afterwards, Wanda went on to take a long warm shower. Once she washed her hair and rubbed soap over her body, she took a seat on the cold wet floor, letting the water rush down on her back. She pulled her knees close to her chest, ignoring the aching and soreness of her muscles brought on by her position. She closed her eyes and just sat there, thinking about nothing in particular.

* * *

There was a soft two-knock on her door as soon as stepped out of the bathroom. Gripping the towel covering her decency, she hesitated for a second. Once she sensed the aura of the person on the other side of the door, Wanda sighed.

With that ever-present smirk and hands folded behind her back, the redhead said, "Hey. Can I talk to you?"

Both sat on Wanda's bed. Wanda gathered her wet hair over her right shoulder and began drying it with a small towel as Natasha spoke.

"So… I'm pretty sure you know that Tony has arranged… something for you," she started.

Wanda frowned. She had dearly hoped she had been wrong. "I thought I had said I did not want a party."

Natasha's face softened, her eyes momentarily flickering to the frame on the bedside table. Her head dipped a bit, shaking twice and raising back up to give Wanda a comforting smile.

"Yes, I know, but I think you'll have a good time. It'll only be us," Natasha assured her. She emphasized it with a brief squeeze of Wanda's bare knee.

Wanda, clutching her damp hair in her fingers, released it and hid it under the towel. She didn't want Natasha to see them trembling. She felt so appreciated by the gesture, but the constant reminder of Pietro's absence gnawed at her conscience. She didn't want to go to her birthday party, even though she knew she had to.

As if Natasha had seemingly read her mind, she added, "Your brother would want you to be there. You know that."

At this, Wanda stopped biting her lower lip and looked straight at her fellow comrade. Natasha exuded nothing but compassion and understanding. It was infinitely refreshing for Wanda to have someone like that despite of all the horrors of her past. She envied Natasha for having the strength to never give up, to fight back and do the right things. It's true she probably would've not found redemption had Clint not seen it in her, but she asserted herself in proving him right. She deserved to have a second chance – just like Wanda was getting now. Natasha knew exactly what she was going through, and so she wasn't going to let Wanda recover from it alone. Natasha had Clint; Wanda had Natasha.

"Okay," Wanda relented.

Natasha sighed a breath of relief.

"The others will be here in about two hours. See you then," she grinned as she walked out.

* * *

Wanda opted to straighten her long brown mane, parting it down the middle which created a curtain around her delicate round face. She took notice of the younger appearance it gave her, having pin-straight hair. Not quite woman nor a child. The appearance of innocence, hiding the traumatic events that has plagued her. It was the perfect façade.

She also decided to take another turn with her face. Instead of her eyes being rimmed entirely in black, she wore light, natural makeup. Eyelashes curled and faintly coated in mascara, a brush of blush on the apples of her cheeks, and a swift swipe of transparent lip gloss. It only enhanced her youthful beauty, something Wanda scoffed at when she saw the finishing work.

She didn't feel young anymore. That sensuality had been taken from her the moment her parents were killed, she angrily thought as she rubbed off the black nail polish from her fingers. It didn't matter if she looked like a teen, she was forced to be an adult as a little kid and thus she could never understand again what that feels like. Blood was on her hands, and unlike Natasha who desperately wanted it washed off, Wanda grudgingly accepted it. She had no choice anyways.

Once her nails were cleared, she focused on her attire. Keeping the adolescent charade afloat, she picked out cool colors – a complete contrast of her usual black, red, dark blue and purple. A soft peach-colored cardigan over her simple pale yellow cocktail dress adorned in weird purple zig zag shapes. She couldn't, however, forego her trademark multiple rings and black tights.

Standing in front of the ceiling-to-the-ground mirror, Wanda liked that she was all covered up. She still wasn't wholeheartedly comfortable with the Avengers, and though they knew she was trying her damnest in the practices, she didn't want them to see the scattered bruises over her body. The slight tan helped minimize the size of the bruises, but nevertheless. Wanda wanted one night to be just Wanda, and not an Avengers, or even what the media were calling her: Scarlet Witch.

"Miss Maximoff, all the guests are here and waiting for you," F.R.I.D.A.Y. announced from above.

Wanda sighed through her mouth. "Thank you, F.R.I.D.A.Y."

She grabbed her dark brown brogues, slipped them on, and turned one last to the mirror. She organized her dress, the cardigan, her hair. She suddenly felt nervous and a smile threatened to break out. She had no clue why, until she looked at the picture next to her bed. Pietro had always loved parties, especially when it was their birthdays. She would be enjoying herself not just for her, but for him, too.

* * *

She heard the chatter as soon as she had opened the door. As she walked down the hallways, the noise grew exponentially. She immediately recognized Sam and Rhodey's loud conversation, followed by Tony's cackling and wisecracks. She paused before turning the corner and closed her eyes, debating whether she should just run back to her room. It wasn't because she didn't want the party. No, the complete opposite. She was… shy?

She could hear Pietro right now, mocking her for being so scared at being the center of attention.

 _Just because we were born at the same time doesn't mean we're the same person_ , she thought.

 _Go out there already, damn, you're wasting time_ , said the voice in the back of her head, sounding exactly like Pietro.

Defeated, Wanda huffed and wiped her balmy hands against the dress, licked her lips, and throwing her shoulders back, she walked on. The first to turn their head at her direction was Vision, dressed to the nines in a sweater vest and slacks. He gave her a hesitant smile, but once Wanda returned it, it became more relaxed. So did everyone else's.

"Wanda! The lady of the hour!" Tony proclaimed with a glass of champagne raised in the air.

It didn't take long before she was engulfed with presents. Of course, first in line was Tony. Already a bit tipsy, he managed to whip out his tablet and quickly browse through it. Then with a cheeky smile, he gave it over to Wanda, whose eyes went large and she gasped.

It was her Avengers suit.

"Amazing, right?" Tony said as he put his hand under his chin, the smell of alcohol hitting Wanda at full-force. She didn't mind. "It's still in the works, and I'll obviously need you to try it on, but all in all, I think I did a pretty badass job, don't you think?"

Wanda silently nodded, too taken in by the picture as she lightly traced the outlines of the long red coat, skin-hugging black tights covered by boats and the corset-looking top. She had loved the first suit he had given her, but this one was… _so much better_.

"Oh!" he added, leaning in closer to Wanda to point at the picture. "And Pepper helped out too. _A lot_ , actually. So make sure to thank her too. She sends her love, by the way."

Wanda beamed at Tony, which months ago would have been seen as batshit crazy. "Yes, yes, I will not forget. Thank you." He threw her another sloppy grin and a light pat on the back in return.

* * *

Behind Tony waited Jane Foster. The astrophysicist. Or in other words, the most intelligent person in the room – besides Vision. For someone who had nearly won a Nobel Prize, Thor had certainly picked the right partner. Wanda held back a giggle as she reminisced that time when she overheard Tony trying to make his case to Rhodey that Pepper, his girl, was far more smarter than Jane, Thor's girl. In Wanda's honest and humble opinion, she believed the two women were simply too good for both men. But they didn't have to know that.

"Happy birthday, Wanda," Jane said in her sweet, soft tone. In her arms was a large white box with a red bow glued to the center.

"This is from Thor and myself," she suggested at the box. Wanda took off the lid and in front laid five pairs of scarves tucked neatly within the box. Amazed, she grabbed the first scarf, a shade of mauve, and wrapped it around her shoulders, loving how soft the fabric felt.

"Thor brought them from Asgard," Jane pointed it out.

Wanda's eyes nearly popped from its sockets. "Asgard?"

Before Thor's appearance on Earth, she had never thought possible that a whole other realm existed within their solar system. And most certainly not _nine_. If Thor hadn't left so soon after Ultron, she would have gone to him and asked him everything about Asgard. The mythological books weren't enough.

The small scientist nodded. "Yes, he noticed you with a scarf and he thought that you would like a couple more from his home planet."

Wanda marveled at the other scarves, seeing splashes of red, black, and other dark colors.

"Thank you… thank you so much," Wanda breathed out.

* * *

Then there was Natasha. As always, she was drop-dead gorgeous. With her short red hair curled above her shoulders and lips painted blood-red, she looked ever so deadly. She had her arms behind her back, forcing her to side-hug Wanda.

"I love your outfit," she teased.

Wanda snickered and wiggled her index finger at her. "What do you have hiding back there?"

"Well," she started as she revealed a sleek wooden musical jewelry box, the color of red wine and finished off with brass feet. On the lid was a hand drawn blooming rose. "I know how much you love wearing jewelry, especially those rings, so I thought giving you this would help keeping them in one place." Natasha opened it, showing three sections to place necklaces, rings and earrings. There was a little rectangular mirror behind a tiny ballet dancer made of marble that twirled around when Natasha twisted the switch, which then played a tune Wanda was all too familiar with.

"Clair de lune," she mouthed.

Wanda's eyes prickled. In an instant, she was brought back to Sokovia, to her mother and the musical jewelry box that sat on her dresser. It had once belonged to her grandmother, and once Wanda would have become of age, then it would have been passed down to her. The song it played was Debussy's Clair de lune. It was her mother's favorite little classical piece, and would always hum it to Wanda when she had trouble sleeping. She also remembered being so excited – it was because of her mother that she got an affinity for jewelry. She could never forget the sound of her mother's bangles clinking together every time her hands moved, or her long necklaces hanging by her long neck.

After her death, Wanda wore her rings and necklaces, but not just out of want. The jewelry elicited fond memories of her beautiful mother, of the pretty musical box that was nearly hers.

"Nat…" Wanda whispered in awe. "I don't know what to say…"

"Your face expression says enough," Natasha chuckled.

Wanda placed the music box onto of her Asgardian scarves and mustered all her strength to embrace Natasha.

" _Хвала вам_ (thank you),"

" _Нема на чему_ (you're welcome)," Natasha replied into her ear and pecked her on the cheek.

* * *

From the look of the case, Wanda already knew what it was. But she still acted surprised, both hands on her cheeks and mouth opened in fake shock as Sam and Maria walked up to her and engulfed her in big bear hug.

"A guitar?"

Sam went along with it. Putting the case down and twisting his arms over his chest mocked defeat, he exasperated, "How'd you know?"

Wanda merely shrugged. "Lucky guess."

A second passed, and then all three laughed. Wanda hadn't known exactly when it changed between Sam and Maria, and could've never guessed it either. Sam was a loose and jokester kind-of guy, whereas Maria was always serious and commanding. But having seen them interact over the last couple of weeks, it was good to see Maria smile. It brought color to her cheeks and brightened up those sparkling blue eyes. And he also unleashed Maria's real personality, which was that of lightheartedness and filled with some jokes of her own.

"Nah, I'm just _playin'_ with you, Maximoff," Sam said, emphasizing on the word as he picked up the case.

"Ignore him," Maria scoffed and took the case from him. "This is for you, Wanda. Something for you to play with on your free time."

Wanda smiled, crouching down to unhook the three chrome-plated latches. Inside was a plain guitar, rosewood-constructed with a mahogany neck. She flicked slightly at one of the strings, and a low sound echoed.

"We put a beginner's book at the bottom, but you can use YouTube too," Sam offered.

Without getting up, Wanda looked up at them and bared her teeth in a smile.

"I've always wanted to play an instrument," she revealed.

* * *

Wanda had repeatedly told Vision that she didn't want anything, and it seems that he finally relented, since he was taking her to the kitchen. Out on the island top was a lonesome delicious-looking red velvet cake and a small plate. Wanda gasped, taking her hand from Vision's to run towards the cake.

"Oh my God, Vision –!" She turned to him. "You baked this all by yourself?"

Vision appeared to be keeping his eagerness to himself. "Yes. It took five tries before it could actually be consumed, and then another couple of times to get the flavor just right. Please, try it."

Wanda squealed. She grabbed the knife, cut herself a slice, and without waiting for Vision to get a fork, her lithe fingers squished the cake and she raised a piece to her mouth. She yelped when she crunched down on chocolates. Vision flashed a timid smile. After swallowing, Wanda licked her lips.

"That was _величанствен_ (marvelous), Vis! Come here," she said as she extended her arms to hug him. She stood on her tip-toes, adding, "I am so proud of you."

"I baked this only for you, so don't let anyone else eat it."

"Oh, I won't," she promised as she grabbed another bite and continued to stuff her face.

* * *

Clint waited midway through the party to deliver the heartwarming news. It was so sudden and so emotionally suffocating; Wanda was thankful that she had been standing behind the couch to catch her fall.

"Me? Godmother?" she coughed out.

Clint nodded, sitting down next to her. "Yeah. What'd ya think?"

"Uh – I –" Wanda stuttered, unable to form words. She had never envisioned herself as godmother. With Pietro gone, she would never experience being an aunt, so she thought even less of a godmother role. But now that she was asked to that exactly, it hit her right in the heart. Feelings she had shoved down all inside, painful hopes dashed away in a split second, coming back in a rush that almost hurt to breathe. She couldn't stop some tears from streaking down, but she quickly wiped them away.

"Yes, of course, Clint." She grabbed his hands and shook them. "How can I say no to something like this? Of course, I would like nothing else than to be Nathaniel's godmother."

Clint himself looked like on the verge of crying by the reddening of his eyes, but he kept his composure. "Good, good. Laura will be over the moon."

Once they calmed down, Clint reached to his back pocket. He laid a leather black book slightly bigger than Wanda's palms. She flipped through the pages, but they were all empty.

"It's a journal. Or a diary, or however you wanna call it. With everything you've been through, I know from experience that writing down stuff you're feeling or thinking at the moment is therapeutic. It doesn't work for everyone; I didn't for me at first, but then it actually worked. Just things you can't say aloud, you just write it down instead."

Wanda didn't need him to say it twice. There were infinite number of things that she desperately wanted to write down. The physical part of the sparring's was very helpful in letting out her anger and her devastation, but it also left her drained and it bothered her the lingering aches. Clint was right – it was the perfect outlet for her to empty out her mind when she couldn't practice. She wondered why she hadn't thought it sooner.

* * *

Steve was the last person to approach her for the night. He pulled her away from the vibrating rock music and drunken howling of Tony and Sam, whose funny dancing and silly, most likely made up stories, kept the rest of the guests entertained.

"So how you've been Wanda?" Steve asked once they were alone.

"Okay," she said, peering up at the tall man. "It has been a good night, better than I anticipated."

Steve half-smiled. "I'm happy to hear that. We were all nervous since you didn't want a party, so you sayin' that is like music to my ears."

Wanda returned a friendly smile.

"And now, I hope you'll like what I'm about to give you. I went crazy thinking of what to give you, but only because we've known each other for a short time."

"Oh Steve, you didn't have to –"

He chuckled, his head dipping down as his hand disappeared in the front pocket of his slacks. "I wasn't about to be only one who didn't get the birthday girl anything."

Wanda rolled her eyes and waited, peeking slightly at his hands to get a glimpse of his present.

"I got you this," he said, dangling a long silver necklace in front of her. The saucers on Wanda allowed Steve's smile to widen just a bit. Clutching it, she saw it was a circle-shaped locket, the intricate engraving of what Wanda recognized as the tree of life. The latch was right underneath it, and the picture that was inside made Wanda's knees buckle.

It was the same image from her bedside table. A teenage Pietro. It was cropped out to his face to fit in the locket.

She felt her throat clench. Her fingers were trembling again. Flashes of his death, the excruciating pain that rumbled through her body when he gave his last breath. His smile, his sarcastic retorts, his overprotectiveness. Waves of nostalgia were drowning her over and over.

"I used the picture from your room. I hope you don't mind," she heard Steve say.

But she couldn't focus on him, not yet. Not when her brother was smiling right at her. She remembered when the picture was taken. During their summer break from school, after hanging out at the park. Her father had purchased a new camera and wanted the first picture taken to be of them. It took some boasting from her mother to get in the picture; she had been camera-shy at that age. Her smile was lovely, but it didn't quite reach her eyes as much as Pietro's did. With one arm thrown sloppy over her shoulder, his enthusiasm was evident. He had loved taking pictures, even when it dimmed down as he got older.

"Wanda? Wanda, are you okay? Do you need to sit down?"

"No!" she blinked and took the locket from him. "No, no…" She gripped it tightly under her chin. When she felt Steve's calloused palms softly grasp her shoulders, she looked at him with a new set of tears ready to release. "I will treasure this forever."

Steve's upper lip twitched, his smile turning sad. He said nothing, only clung to her small frame as she wept into his chest. Not from despondency, but from a budding peace of mind.

* * *

 _It's a little over 2 in the morning. I've stopped panting, but I'm still a bit sweaty – even after washing my face and drinking a full glass of water._

 _I've had_ _that_ _dream again. That odd dream where I'm running my hand over silver metal. It's a dark place in the dream, but the metal is so bright that it takes up my entire view. There's a red star imprinted into the metal, and my fingers are simply rubbing it back and forth. I can hear a distant humming, but it doesn't sound like my own. Or human at all._

 _It never lasts long. As soon as I'm consciously awake to remember the dream, I actually wake up. My face, my neck, my chest, even my privates, are covered in sweat. It's the weirdest thing ever. For such a plain dream, it definitely makes my heart race. I'm curious as to what it means, if it means anything. It can't be a past memory… maybe a premonition? I have no idea._

 _Now that I think about it, it's been nearly four months since I last dreamed that dream. I'm sure of it, because in my time since I've been with the Avengers, it hasn't crossed my mind not once. I'm sure of it, because the only person I've told was Pietro, and…_

 _Now that my dear brother is not here, I don't know if I should tell anyone else. Clint is the first person that I think about. There's also Steve. Sam and Vision, too. And of course, Natasha and Maria, the only two other females besides me. Perhaps Pepper or Jane, they're such sweet people… but they rarely come out here. Not Stark or Rhodey, no, they're far too busy. Not to mention, awkward._

 _I don't know what to do._


	3. Chapter 3

**November 2015**

It happened right after the battle with Ultimo. Quite literally, if Steve was going to pinpoint the exact moment that something within him changed. He did his best to conceal it from the team on the way back to the compound, and though no one suspected him in the slightest (they had no reason in the first place), he couldn't stop the lingering gazes. It threw him off, that he found himself looking at her a second or two longer, and not just _at_ her. His eyes had wandered to her light green ones, to her lips, her long hair, her entire face, even her chest –

It definitely threw him off, and it scared the shit out of him. He had never felt what he started to feel for her. Not since Peggy.

Steve initially thought that it was due to her physical attractiveness. There were no arguments when it came to Wanda's beauty: she was a gorgeous young woman. She was also very powerful, which added to the allure. It had to be just physical. Outside of his lone kiss with Peggy, Steve had a nonexistent love life. He sure didn't have one pre-serum, and then he spent the last 70 years trapped in ice.

Maybe the physical wanting was catching up to him, circling around the only single woman on the team. Maria was Sam's girl, and regardless of Bruce's decision to go God knew where, he was still at the center of Natasha's heart.

So it was normal to long for Wanda, Steve tried to convince himself. As soon as it came, it would go away on a whim.

Except it didn't. Days translated into weeks, and it only got worse.

Steve's heart beat loud in his ears every time he saw Wanda. His breath became short once she began speaking, and he had to look away, in fear that he would be caught staring. He couldn't help it – she was just so pretty.

And _that accent_ – God, it was like Peggy all over again. Her voice made his skin pulsate to each syllable, forcing him to scratch the back of his neck in a futile effort to calm himself down.

It was difficult in meetings. Especially when she sat next to him. She'd give him a warm, tight-lipped smile, and Steve returned it, but inside, his gut was doing hurdles. She always sat in front of him, allowing him a chance to stare-not-stare at her from behind. He tried very hard to concentrate on what was being said, and he could at times, but most of it was spent on wishing he could run his fingers through her hair.

It was even more difficult in their sparring sessions. Damn near impossible. Steve took it easy on her since she was just learning, but that didn't stop their sweat-covered bodies from brushing. She was distracting enough with her workout attire – a sports bra that bared her lean stomach and a pair of leggings that hugged her hips and legs. But to have her knocked under him, or him tripped under her, her gasps hitting him square in the face, it was damn near impossible.

The shame of it kept him from revealing it to her – or anyone. Shame because he had viewed like a little sister. After her brother's death, he had developed a protective streak for her. She was so young, and so inexperienced. He knew exactly what she was going through – being brought into a brave new world. She deserved someone to be there for her, like what Nick Fury had done for him. All Steve had wanted to offer was help and guidance. Anything more than that hadn't been part of the plan.

Once the inappropriate dreams kicked in nightly, Steve gave up. No longer could he manage to bottle it up. He was drowning in a sea of emotion; he _had_ to tell someone before he made a fool of himself.

He sought out Sam.

"What I'm about to tell you, don't repeat it anyone else, okay? It stays between us," Steve warned.

Sam leaned in, whispering, "Is it about Bucky?"

Steve shook his head. "No, it's not that. It's something else."

"Oh okay, then what?"

Steve drew in a sharp breath. He was already sweating. He groaned and immediately rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know how to say this…"

Sam smacked his teeth, impatience seething through his face. "Steve. Just tell me, man, I got Maria waiting in the car."

This momentarily caught Steve's attention. "Oh? Where're you going?"

"To eat dinner," Sam replied quickly, raising his arms to fold them across his chest. "So are you gonna tell me what's wrong with you or…"

"I – Uh –" Steve mumbled over his words, unable to form a simple sentence. _I like Wanda_ , he wanted to say, but it just wouldn't leave his mouth. He started pacing.

"Dude!" Sam exclaimed as he threw his hands up.

"Okay, okay!" Steve exasperated in surrender. He stood in front of Sam, the closest buddy he's had since Bucky, whom he trusted with his life, and slowly revealed everything. "There's nothing wrong with me, or I don't think so. Well, I wouldn't count this as something wrong with me, it's actually a normal thing. It's not bad, at least I hope it's not." Heart-stopping pause. "It concerns Wanda."

When Sam said nothing, Steve elaborated. "I don't know when it happened – wait, no, I do, but it caught me by total surprise. Suddenly, I couldn't stop thinking about her. She's making me feel something, Sam. It's the same thing I felt for Peggy. And it's overwhelming me, Sam, I can't –"

The former pararescueman, who until then had kept a blank face, was now giving Steve a cheeky smile and a giddy snicker. "Hold on. Are you telling me you have a _crush_ on Wanda?"

Steve frantically searched around the empty hallway. "Keep your voice down, please?"

"Oh my God," Sam laughed. "Are you serious right now, Cap?"

An embarrassed Steve kept quiet, but it didn't lessen the flush on his cheeks. The sight only fueled Sam's chuckles, who was grabbing his stomach heaving with one palm laid flat against the wall.

"Ah man. I can't believe this. Captain freakin' America has a crush. Wow. You know how long I've waited for this day to come?"

Steve half-smiled in response and mockingly punched Sam's shoulder. "Oh, shut up."

"Are you gonna tell her?"

"That's the thing," he admitted, tucking his hands into his pockets. "I don't know how to. I don't want to make things uncomfortable with her, you know?"

Sam nodded knowingly. "Yeah, I get it. I thought the same thing with Maria. I was still in the process of trying to ask her out when she beat me to it."

"Well, it helped that you knew that she liked you. I have no idea about Wanda," Steve said. And he didn't, not a clue or sign that could possibly reciprocate his feelings. She was like him in that way: both kept to their selves and weren't outspoken individuals like Sam, Tony or Maria.

"You won't know if you don't tell her."

"And what if she doesn't?"

"You're a very likable guy, Steve. She respects you enough to give you a chance. Just be honest with her, and let that trust build the foundation."

Steve grimaced. "Honest? Even about Bucky?"

"That's solely on you."

He hunched over, imagining how the conversation would over if he told her about his search for a guy who was mind-controlled into assassinating countless people. He knew she would be understanding, that he didn't doubt. But she was still dealing with her own loss, and he wasn't sure if she could help him recover HYDRA's top assassin. She was already going through enough. "No, I can't. Not yet, anyways. Not until we find him. I… it's not her issue to deal with."

"Whatever you think is right," Sam's cautious tone echoed.

* * *

Wanda was oblivious to it, even when she had recognized a shift in Steve's aura. She couldn't really explain it; she just felt that he was very jumpy when he was in her presence. Although she never dared to read his mind, it did leave her curious. It was fresh new feeling – Steve had never been that way before. But since nothing appeared out of the ordinary, Wanda left things as they were.

Then, one normal day while Wanda and Vision took advantage of the Avengers' absence for a mission to cook in the grand state-of-the-art kitchen, the ball unexpectedly dropped.

"Wanda," Vision started in his ever-present inquisitive voice. "Have you thought about choosing a mate?"

She coughed in surprise and gave him a funny look. "A mate?"

He continued to slowly stir the bowl of marinara sauce, avoiding meeting Wanda's eyes. "Well, you know. A partner. A husband."

"Are you suggesting I should get married now?" Wanda teased.

Vision chuckled lightly. "Not unless you're ready. No, what I mean is, seeing Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts, Mr. Wilson and Ms. Hill, the Bartons, and even Dr. Banner and Ms. Romanoff, I'd assume that you are at the right age of your life to have a partner."

Wanda smiled, shaking her head. Vision surely had a way with words. "You would assume right. A partner would be nice, but that will come in time. Besides… I don't think I am on any man's radar at the moment." She might be an Avenger, but she was aware of the general public's opinion about her. There wasn't a lot of trust to go around when it concerned her because of her past, and she had the talking heads on the political shows to blame for keeping the country on bay.

The android dropped the ladle and looked straight at the bemused witch. "Oh, but you're wrong there."

Wanda's nose crinkled. "How?"

"Didn't you know of Captain Rogers?"

Her eyebrows went sky-high at the mention of him. "Steve? What about him?"

They stared at each other for a minute, and when Wanda's puzzled expression didn't disappear, it dawned on Vision that she was totally inattentive, even naïve. Suddenly feeling trapped in a position he had no experience in, and also didn't want to get involved in, Vision stammered.

"I only thought that, because of your mind-reading abilities, that you… would… know…"

"Know what, Vis?" Wanda demanded.

Vision had never looked so distressed and embarrassed, like wishing he would be anywhere but there. "That… Captain Rogers fancies you."

Wanda was at a loss for words. She thought she had heard wrong, so she begged Vision to repeat what he had said. Steve Rogers couldn't harbor feelings for her – _Captain America_ didn't have feelings for her. It didn't make any sense. Why would he feel anything remotely romantic towards her? All their interactions had been friendly, bordering on sibling-like. Nothing about Steve or his behavior around her alerted her of a potential fancying.

She told Vision that he was flat-out wrong and the topic wasn't further discussed. Vision must have read Steve wrong, she thought. It was simply not possible in her perspective. He had such a guiding light these past few months, that the likelihood he did that out of the goodness of his heart than wanton was far-reaching. She couldn't wrap it around her, even after she caught Steve stealing sheepish glances at her.

The only way to find out if Vision was right was to read his mind, and Wanda really didn't want to do that. She defiantly stuck to it, until it became too much during one of their sparring sessions.

Steve had caught her in a choke-hold, and swallowing back her instincts to throw a hex at him, she was able to snake her way out and a series of back-and-forth punches, she used the Black Widow's famous maneuver and trapped Steve under her thighs in mid-air. They both slammed to the carpet, Steve clutching her thighs for a few seconds before grunting in resignation.

Wanda released him, and they both laid on the floor panting. Steve remained in the lap of her thighs and had she not been engulfed with Steve's vivid images of her chest rising with each breath, she probably wouldn't have noticed their physical closeness.

As soon as she read his head, however, Wanda shot up and excused herself for the day, not daring to look back at him. She hadn't even bothered to do that – no, it was entirely Steve, likely unwillingly, but nevertheless. The mystical atmosphere of his body, his mind, had literally screamed at her. It was so abrupt that she had no chance of stopping it. One second she was in her body, and the next, she was in his head and seeing what he was thinking, which was _her_.

It was overwhelming, to say the least. She wasn't used to the notion of being desired by a man. It was a whole new concept for her because she had never been in a relationship. She didn't know what it was like for someone to think about her constantly, and so intimately as Steve had. It didn't bother her – she couldn't deny Steve's appeal – but she also didn't know enough. This was new territory, and though Wanda appreciated how much Steve liked her, she was baffled on how to approach it.

Once settled in the confines of her bedroom, Wanda did the only thing that could calm her down after the shocking revelation: she wrote.

* * *

It took some time for the truth to settle down, to accept it. Her relationship with Steve had risen to another level, whether he knew it or not. She couldn't look at him the same again – not as a friend, companion, and most definitely not a brother. Especially not when she recognized her own feelings, though she attributed that to simply being a human response to his. Still, a line had been drawn at their friendship; its replacement was a question mark. What were they?

Steve Rogers was an interesting guy. A 97-year old man forever stuck in the body of a twenty-something. He had been an experiment, just like her. An experiment that turned him into Captain America, the essence of patriotism and courage and liberty and righteousness. That is what Wanda had had in mind when she volunteered for HYDRA. She walked in thinking she was going to protect her country. Her intentions had been well, except for the part where she and Pietro had forged a little plan to torture Tony Stark to death, but thankfully that road was never built.

He was a war veteran whose efforts were a major reason for the Allied victory and the temporary coup de grâce of HYDRA. His superhuman strength is what aided his country, but it also prevented him from dying when his plane went down in the Artic. The world had moved on from him, and yet when he was awakened again, he just couldn't turn down the opportunity to keep defending it. The Avengers Initiative would've continued had he chosen not to join, but his morality, the compass of his every decision, couldn't allow that. He was fiercely protective, especially to those who were unable to protect themselves. There was nothing he could wrong, because he always thought of everyone else.

In other words, Steve Rogers was the perfect man. He was a parents' son-in-law dream come true. The word lucky couldn't do justice to describe the girl whom Steve would choose to spend his life with. He was more than the ideal lifelong partner; he was almost God-like in that sense, that his loyalty to you would never be diminished, just like his loyalty to protecting the innocent. Such fidelity frightened Wanda, but in a good way. It let her know that whether she would to return his feelings didn't really matter; he still cared for her and would never stop supporting her.

But... although she found comfort in that, there was still insecurity. It wasn't reserved for Steve; she felt it towards herself. Accepting the reality of Steve's feeling for her were one thing; accepting that she was reciprocating them was a separate matter.

Wanda had kept a close eye on Steve afterwards. She observed him from afar, probably in the same way he was when he thought she wasn't looking. She saw how serious his face was during meetings and missions, but lighthearted in the company of the team. She enjoyed his child-like reactions to the modern advances of the 21st century; three years awake and there was still so much for him to learn. She particular envied his strenuous training exercises; it was as if the status of super soldier wasn't sufficient for him. He always had to be fit, even when they'd go weeks without leaving the compound. He had to be at his peak at all times – and that was no issue for Wanda. She let him know that, in a brief moment of fearlessness. She eyed him a second longer than usual, scaling her eyes from his protruding biceps to his wet lips. There was no need to wait for an answer – she already felt his cheeks flush red and his mouth quirking up in a smile.

That was only the beginning of a slew of flirtatious comments, fueling both Steve and Wanda out of uncertainty and self-doubt.

* * *

The tipping point was Belgrade. The Avengers had been tasked to rip through a research facility that HYDRA operatives were trying to construct in the Serbian capital. Wanda, Steve, Natasha, and Sam staked out the building for two days, and then unleashed a surprise attack on them. Their opposition was quickly defeated and the building was destroyed, but none of that was of importance to Steve. Or, not as important as taking Wanda to safety.

She had been throwing hexes at the HYDRA soldiers when a stray bullet became lodged in her left calf. She cried out and fell to the snowy plain, gasping in pain. A second had barely passed before she heard him.

"Wanda!" Steve yelled from nearly a mile away and immediately began running to her amid flinging his shield to any man who got in his way.

"What happened, Wanda?" Sam asked through the earpiece.

"I got hit," she heaved as she crawled to hide behind one of the bigger trunks in the forest of trees. She held her leg out and bit down on her bottom lip to keep from screaming when her fingers hovered over the bloody wound and red snakes extracted the bullet from deep within her muscles. The relief was instantaneous.

"Oh my – Wanda," Steve stammered as he kneeled beside her.

She leaned back against the bark and chuckled at the mixture of aversion and fascination on Steve's face.

"You should have not seen that," she teased.

He took his head and sighed. "Come on, you need to get back on the jet."

In spite of her leg rapidly numbing, she tried to get up. "No, I can keep fighting."

Steve raised a blond brow and got closer to her. "On one leg?" he pointed an index finger.

He was clouding her vision, and the sound of gunshots was drowning more and more in the background. "I can fly," she said matter-of-factly.

"And who will be there to catch you if you fall?" he questioned her as he wrapped one arm under her legs and the other around her shoulders. This brought them inches closer, allowing Wanda to see his eyes turn a stormy blue-grey.

"You, of course," she whispered.

Steve smiled. "You trust me that much?"

She shrugged, a movement that made her upper arm rub against his chest. She shivered. "You haven't given me reason not to."

They stared at each other for nearly ten seconds. It was silent, besides the obvious battle going on behind them, and then Steve asked, "Will you go on a date with me?"

Wanda's jaw dropped. "What?"

The wintery weather caused a flustered Steve's cheeks to burn cherry red. "Wrong timing?"

She laughed and buried her head in the crook of his collarbone as he picked up her and carried her away from the scenes of onslaught. "No, Steve."

"Y'all do know we can hear you, right?" Sam interrupted.

"Oh, leave them alone, Wilson," Natasha barked amid sucker-punching one of the last remaining soldiers.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Note:** The action will pick up, I promise. And to those wondering when Bucky is going to appear, he will get his own little sections in the next few chapters. But since it is pre-CW so far, it's going to take some time for Bucky to catch up the story. The first part of the story is focused on the romance between Wanda and Steve before it transitions into Wanda/Bucky. But Winterwitch will happen!

* * *

 **December 2015**

After three long hours of surfing the web, Wanda groaned in frustration and slammed down the laptop. She reached for her mug, decorated in cartoon drawings of the Avengers, courtesy of Sam Wilson, took a sip of the cold coffee, and brought her knees up to her chin. She squeezed her tired eyes shut for a couple seconds, attempting to focus on nothing but the light noise of the birds outside her window.

Christmas was nearing, and the first instance that Wanda was going to celebrate it in December than the usual January 7 holiday observed in Sokovia. Which gave her a one week less of finding a present for Steve. She had surprisingly managed to get the rest of the team's presents, but she was stuck on Steve, her… boyfriend? They had only been dating – that term took some getting used to – for almost a month. In the beginning, it consisted of elegant evening dates, whether it was in the facility under candlelight and soothing music or licking ice cream on a stroll around Brooklyn. They always started their day together, both rising earlier than the rest so they could eat breakfast just the two of them. Wanda then looked forward to their sparring sessions, as she used it as an excuse to linger her fingers on his hot skin. She particularly liked smoothing out his blonde hair that was coated in sweat. Steve would blush, and Wanda would peck his cheek, and she could see he wanted her to do more than that, but he shook it off by grabbing her hand.

They'd been dating for almost a month and Wanda was so unsure in what to get him. He had pressed that he didn't need anything, but of course she wouldn't listen. It was Christmas, a day of giving and receiving from your closest friends and family. Of course she would give her boyfriend a gift, but what exactly was the problem.

She knew that Steve was a baseball fan. He loved rags-to-riches movies. He could never turn down a nice watch. He occasionally splurged on tuxes and cologne, but with months-long gaps in between the purchases. His library was filled with books of World War II and literally everything that happened afterwards, such as the Cold War, John F. Kennedy, Martin Luther King, the Civil Rights Movement, Elvis, the Beatles, Vietnam War, Watergate, AIDS, Michael Jackson, Persian Gulf War, 9/11. Steve relentlessly pursued knowledge; he craved to be taught how the world changed after he downed his plane. It was a trait that he had in common with Wanda – she, too, found herself curious in the plentiful history. They often fell asleep in his couch, Wanda tucked under Steve's arm as his other hand lost its grip on the large novel.

Aside from other trivial information, that was all Wanda knew about Steve. He rarely talked about his family, but then again, she didn't either. Their immediate family members were gone; both were the last descendant of their lineage. But unlike her, Steve did have people alive from his old life. There was Peggy Carter, a co-founder of S.H.I.E.L.D. and the first woman he had loved. Wanda felt no ill will towards the elderly Peggy when Steve spoke about her. She actually enjoyed it immensely, hearing stories of a woman excel and be superior in a career that was dominated by men. She could feel just how proud Steve was of Peggy, how he couldn't help himself but cry a bit when he read about one of her many accomplishments. She could see the regret pouring out, regret that he hadn't been there to experience any of it with her. A lifetime of being together had been robbed, so Steve clung onto Wanda, desperately wishing that it wouldn't repeat again with them.

And then there was his best friend, Sergeant Bucky Barnes. His partner, comrade, _brother_. When Steve had comforted Wanda after Pietro's death and told her she knew what she was going through, he really did. He lost his brother too. Or so he thought. Wanda had once heard of the Winter Soldier, or as the HYDRA agents referred to him, the Asset. The images she had seen so far of Bucky were as the Winter Soldier, with the black goggles and mask hiding his face. Steve kept a picture of Peggy in his bedroom, but not of Bucky. She often wondered why that was, but she didn't want to intrude by asking. She realized Bucky was a very personal subject, so she didn't want to push Steve into telling her. She wanted him to come to her, to feel comfortable to speak about his best friend, a brainwashed assassin with a metal arm.

* * *

Wanda and Vision were enjoying their weekend movie night, which compromised of watching old films in favor of recent ones. A custom that was created not long after they both joined the Avengers, they realized that they preferred the black-and-white pictures. This particular night, Vision had decided to put on _The Manchurian Candidate_. It was a compelling choice due to the nature of the film: the son of a political family is brainwashed into an unwitting assassin for an international communist conspiracy. It was all too familiar to the situation with Bucky Barnes, but Wanda still watched, and by the end, she was gasping and holding back tears. Raymond Shaw, the Manchurian candidate who really was a victim of his power-hungry communist mother, had triumphed in getting relieved from the brainwashing by dealing away with his mother instead of his target. What broke Wanda's heart was that Shaw then turned the gun on himself. She had quickly grown attached to Shaw and the mental battle he was fighting, and to see him overcome it but still commit suicide was heartbreaking to behold.

"Perhaps he believed that someone would replace his mother and continue to control him," Vision inquired after Wanda explained her opposition to the ending of the film.

"But Marco _did_ manage to free him from his brainwashing. The Queen of Diamonds did not control him anymore. And Marco would have helped him recover," Wanda argued.

Vision's eyes narrowed as he stared into empty space, seemingly in deep thought. "Marco had indeed succeeded in removing the brainwashing from Shaw since he shot his mother and stepfather, but even then, it didn't absolve his consciousness of the murders he committed. Shaw, controlled or not, killed an unknown number of people. The mental damage that can occur to a person's head from doing such inhumane actions is colossal and sometimes irreversible. Shaw was free, but was he really?"

Wanda sighed. "I just don't think he should killed himself,"

"Killing himself was his only way of making sure that he wouldn't pose a threat anymore."

She stubbornly shook her head. "No, he had Marco and the entire Army to help him. There was no need for suicide."

Vision was quiet for a couple seconds, and then he stared straight at her. Softly, he asked, "Have you ever killed a person, Wanda?"

She stilled, remembering the instances where she had been tempted to end a few lives, but never actually did. "No."

"It is a feeling that you never want to experience. The act of taking a human being's life, whether that person was good or bad, is too traumatizing to put into words. And as I said, the person who committed the murder might never fully recover mentally. Shaw was free from the brainwashing, but he was never going to be free from the assassinations he carried out. He was going to suffer for the rest of life."

* * *

That night, Wanda woke up with a sharp tremor running through her entire body. She was drenched in sweat and gasping for air. She went to the bathroom, splashing icy cold water on her face. After changing into a new pajama shirt, Wanda grabbed her diary, turned on the nightlight lamp, and speedily wrote away what she saw in her dream.

 _The metal arm reappeared tonight. It was the same as always: I saw my own hands touching it, the humming noise in the background. Except it didn't end in the same way. The metal arm was attached to a body, a man's body. His bare chest was human – in fact, everything about him was human besides the limb. And his hair was dark and straight, stopping just above his shoulders._

 _But I never got to see his face. I tried so hard to get a look at his face, but I saw nothing beyond his chest._

 _That arm, it can only belong to one person in the entire world. It's the arm of the HYDRA assassin. The Winter Soldier. Bucky Barnes, Steve's best friend._

 _Why am I seeing him? I never met him. I briefly heard his name at the research base, but he was never shown to us._

 _I want to tell Steve but I don't know how. How can I intimately dream of a person who I have never spoken to, crossed paths with? What does it mean? Why am I dreaming this?_

* * *

Two days later, Wanda stood outside Steve's bedroom. It was the weekend, so they slept an hour or two in if they weren't to report for any meetings or missions. Usually they met up at the kitchen, but when Wanda saw it empty, she figured that Steve was still in his room. Dressed for their morning workout, Wanda knocked on the door three times.

"Steve?"

There was no answer. She waited a moment, and when the silence lingered, she tapped again.

"Steve?" she repeated, raising her voice slightly.

"Uh – one sec, Wanda – hold on," Steve yelled though it sounded scattered and aloof. She heard the quick shuffling of his feet across the floor, and half a minute passed before the door swung open and Steve stood a bit of breath, his blonde hair tussled. There were the faintest dark circles under his eyes, accentuated by the pallor of his skin; it appeared he had barely gotten any sleep.

"Hey," he breathed out.

"Morning," she replied with a tight-lipped smile.

He scooted back and allowed her in. Without realizing it, Wanda was already subconsciously scanning the room, searching for anything out of the ordinary. Her senses were on alert, a sign that something wasn't quite right with Steve. The place seemed okay, with Steve being a highly-organized person, but nevertheless, Wanda kept her guard up.

"What were you doing?" she asked in a tone she hoped sounded innocent.

"Oh, I just stayed up late reading and overslept," Steve said, not meeting her eyes, which in turn caused Wanda to narrow her gaze. He made his bed in a flash and darted for the bathroom. "Lemme change first, okay?"

"Okay," she said once he closed the door.

Standing alone in the middle of the room, she scoffed at his lie. Sure, he had stayed up, but he didn't oversleep. It was the opposite: he didn't get a wink of sleep. She had already called him out on these all-nighter tendencies, that he needed to take care of his health, but Steve was rather flippant about it, reminding her that he was a super soldier and that he could carry himself without days of sleep. Wanda didn't believe him, but she never nagged him again.

Sighing, Wanda settled on the edge of Steve's bed. As soon as her bottom hit the sheets, there was an abrupt crinkling noise, forcing Wanda to fly back up, puzzled. She pressed her hand down on the same spot, and from the ruffles that came from inside the sheets, it was obvious the sound was paper. Pulling on the cloth from underneath, it revealed a file of papers.

Wanda's brow raised in curiosity. She took a second to look at it, then turned towards the bathroom. Steve was in the midst of brushing his teeth. She returned her attention to the file and contemplated leaving it untouched. She didn't need time to connect the dots – Steve had haphazardly stashed it there and most likely didn't want her to know that he was reading it. But what reason could Steve have for hiding something from her? He had told her, over and over, that he trusted her wholeheartedly. They hadn't been together long, but Wanda held much esteem for Steve in that regard.

 _Just a peak. It is probably nothing_ , she told herself.

Her left index finger skimmed the corner of the file and flipped it open. There was a name, a black and white picture, and then Wanda nearly fainted. She gasped inwardly and she felt her balance become lopsided. She stumbled backwards, her hand swinging to clutch her chest, fingers digging deep into her heart. It burned, the sensation running up to her brain. She couldn't breathe, she couldn't hear a thing due to the very loud humming that drummed against her ears. She shut her eyes in pain and behind her lids, caught a glimpse of the metal arm, gripping at her waist.

" _Wanda_ ," the velvet voice of a man rang in the depths of her mind. It was a voice she had never of. She wanted to ask who it was, but she was unable to form words. She couldn't even move her mouth; it was locked agape.

Then as soon as it had presented itself, Wanda opened her eyes and she was back in Steve's room. She gawked at the file in front of her, her chest rising back and forth hysterically. She was out of breath, beads of sweat forming on her forehead and her neck. She became cognizant of how rough she was pressing her fingers into her heart, and dropped it by her side. Her mouth remained open, brows sky high from how wide her eyes were.

On the bed, in the file, she saw the name. James Buchanan Barnes. Bucky Barnes. A clipping of him up-close. That face – eyes, nose, lips, cheekbones – it was suddenly distinguishable. She had seen that face before. Somehow, someway, she was absolutely sure that she knew him. They had somehow communicated, because it felt so real. His voice ringing in her ears like he had been standing right next to her, she practically felt the air of his breath, that metal palm on her hip…

The faucet switched off. Wanda looked at the closed door, blinked once, and thought fast on her feet. She snapped the file shut and brought the sheets back over it. She was still trembling from whatever she had experienced, and without a second more to waste, shifted on her heel and sprinted from the room.

"I will see you at the gym, Steve!" she called over her shoulder.

Wanda ran down the hallways. She didn't know where to, she just focused on getting away from Steve and that picture.

* * *

The couple sat on the couch, separated from the rest of their teammates who were holding a glass of champagne, cracking jokes, and telling embarrassing stories. There had been serious doubt amongst the Avengers when Tony had insisted that he wasn't going to make a big shin-ding of Christmas, so it was a pleasant surprise to find their living room quarters completely vacant of strangers. The Christmas tree was up, lights hanged from the walls, and in the background, the croons of Frank Sinatra set the festive mood.

Wanda had the side of her face laying on Steve's taut chest, her legs pulled up beside his thigh. One arm resting comfortably on her waist, and other on her bare knee, they sat there in peaceful content. She was clamping the locket Steve had given her for her birthday, absentmindedly thinking back on the Christmas parties her parents had thrown for her and Pietro. Their income had been just enough to buy a tree and a handful of presents, but neither twin had ever complained.

"What's going on in that head of yours?" Steve asked, shaking her shoulder.

Wanda smiled, tilting upwards to meet his eyes. "I am happy, that's all."

His lopsided grin churned her insides. "Me too," he said earnestly.

They ogled at each other for a few seconds, then a minute, and then two minutes. Both waited for the other to make the first move, but they both cuddled there, enjoying their company. It had been awhile since they were this physically intimate, with Steve coming in and out of missions and meetings with world leaders. That was when Wanda missed him the most, often imagining his hands on her body and falling asleep to the sensation of his lips on her nose. It helped take away from getting too engrossed in searching for a connection with his best friend.

Wanda licked her lips, and her cheeks reddened seeing Steve's eyes flicker down to her mouth. She reached up, cradling his delicate face in her small palms. She briefly rubbed his cheek and her stomach nearly dropped from how his blue eyes quickly glazed over.

She had kissed a few boys in her youth, but none had mattered as much as Steve did. No man in her life had mattered as much as Steve did. She loved his kindness and compassion, his courage, his loyalty, even his gentleman manners. He was the embodiment of the life partner Wanda craved to have, and to have him there, sitting in that couch with a look of pure love aimed directly at her, she blinked to stop the tears from spilling.

Steve leaned in and they kissed for the first time. It was a slow and sensual kiss, their lips lapping with initial insecurity that quickly translated into a gratified pace. His grip on her waist tightened, and though he was tempted to run his hand from her knee up her leg, he held back. Instead Steve pulled away and beamed at the beautiful woman in his grasp, feeling so beyond satisfied.

From across the room, Sam elbowed Natasha with a huge grin. "You owe me five bucks,"

Natasha groaned, dug into her back pocket and slammed the money into Sam's chest, ignoring his outstretched hand as he snickered.

* * *

 **January 2016 – Washington, D.C.**

Wanda tugged on her scarf close to her chin as she walked down the icy sidewalk against the winter northern breeze. Every exhale was followed by a puff of air. The lens on her fake glasses were already fogging up. It was an early Tuesday morning in the nation's capital, and it was already bustling with people in a hurry to get to their jobs.

The Avengers were there in an invitation from the White House. Ever since New York, they had been asked to attend the State of the Union address. Despite Wanda not being a US citizen, the government had extended the invitation to her as well. It was her first time in the capital, and besides the brutal cold temperatures, it was quite impressive. She had seen the monuments a thousand times on TV, but to see them up close, to read the memorials, was something else. Icons of the United States, a representation of the freedom and equality that has become synonymous with the country. If only Sokovia would've had even a speck of national pride and the right leadership…

The National Mall park was pretty much vacant compared to the streets. Once again, Wanda passed by the grand masterpieces of American architecture, the U.S. Capitol to her left, and the Washington Monument and the Lincoln Memorial to her right. She buried her gloved hands into the pockets of her dark trench coat and kept her head low, the blonde strands of her wig blowing lightly past her ears.

She trekked to the Smithsonian National Air and Space Museum, alone and in disguise, with one sole purpose. The disturbing sensation she had felt when she saw Bucky Barnes' picture had never left her. It chased relentlessly since then, that unknowing feeling that she had come across him once. She didn't understand how that was possible, but amid her confusion she knew that her senses weren't playing tricks on her. And because it was apparent that Steve wasn't going to go into detail about Bucky, then Wanda figured a museum featuring a memorial panel for Bucky was the best starting point.

Besides, maybe it was better that Steve didn't mention anything of his missing friend. He had nothing to do with Wanda and the growing chance of her history with the Winter Soldier.

Wanda entered the wide and elaborate building. She untwisted her scarf, letting it hang loose around her neck, and removed her gloves. After passing through the metal detector, Wanda wasted no time in searching the Captain America exhibit.

It took her about fifteen minutes to find it. The Smithsonian was very large and filled with centuries-old artifacts and galleries, and if Wanda hadn't been so determined to get to the exhibit, she would have enjoyed taking in the vast amount of American history on display behind the plexiglasses. She reminded herself to ask Steve to bring her back one day.

When she caught sight of the shield and the American flag, Wanda's stride slowed down. The entrance to the exhibit flashed: "Captain America: The Living Legend and Symbol of Courage." Wanda looked ahead at the mural of the Captain at the entrance. She was thankful that the area was quiet and relatively empty. She suddenly felt a heatwave flash across her face and neck, so unbuttoned the first two buttons of her coat and continued walking.

Wanda stared at the exhibitions around her. The voice of a man filled the hallway, narrating the story of Steve Rogers, an ordinary young man who had been denied enlistment into the Army during World War II due to his poor health, and how he had been chosen for a government program that transformed him into Captain America, the world's first super soldier. Wanda smiled at the photograph of a pre-serum Steve, seeing that she was not much taller than him.

The second part of the exhibit was the dedication of the Howling Commandos. Wanda stopped dead in her tracks when she saw the wall-to-wall sized composition of the six notable members of the elite combat unit. Captain America in the middle, and to his left was none other than Bucky. On display were mannequins dressed in replicas of the men's uniforms. Wanda was about to walk towards it when something in her peripheral grabbed her attention. She slowly turned her head, and her knees buckled.

It was the memorial section of James Buchanan Barnes, the only Howling Commando to give his life in service of his country. As if in a hypnotic trance, unable to stop her feet, Wanda glided to the panel, which included a huge black-and-white picture of Bucky. She heard the distant narration of Bucky's life, but her mind was far away. She blankly stared at the picture, waiting for anything to click in her memories. Her hand raised, aiming for the picture. The pads of her fingers hovering above Bucky's cheek, and without touching the surface, she saw a flash of a pair of blue eyes gazing back at her. Bewildered, she yanked her hand back.

Off to the side, there were old video archives of Bucky, Steve and the rest of the Commandos. She peered at the video, at Bucky. His hair was short, and he was mostly clean-shaven, but most of all, he was happy. Despite being in war, Bucky never ceased to smile at least once. This Bucky was absolutely not the person he was forced to become. She never knew this Bucky, and she ached to, for no supposed reason. She just did and it bothered her immensely to not know where that yearning came from. _She didn't know him_.

"Who are you?" she muttered to him, or to no one.


	5. Chapter 5

**January 2016 – New Avengers facility**

She wasn't the same after her little undercover museum trip. Everything she had thought about herself, or thought she had known, was flushed away in an instance. She no longer felt like the new person she was trying to become, this version of Wanda Maximoff that was looking for her place as an enhanced and as an Avenger without the support of her brother. A new layer had been added, which had taken its time peeling back and emerge. A revelation of her past, one she had previously never questioned because of the palpable transgressions. But there she was, standing in front of her bathroom mirror, and Wanda couldn't recognize herself. Again.

The dreams became more frequent. It didn't matter if she was alone or lying next to Steve; they always came, and the backdrop never changed. In fact, it was beginning to irritate her, seeing the same metal arm over and over. She wanted to see more, to identify if it was really the Winter Soldier. She already felt sure that it was him, but she craved that assurance, to see him head-to-toe that it was him. She wanted to see him say her name for confirmation that the voice was coming from his mouth. The evidence that she had interacted with the Winter Soldier when she was with HYDRA.

Wanda had never heard of the term repressed memories. She came by it by accident, after watching two Hitchcock films, _Spellbound_ and _Marnie_ , with Vision. Both movies dealt with memory loss and how a traumatic event can cause a person to completely forget it happened, but still be consciously haunted by it. Wanda internally speculated if she was going through something similar, if her contact with the Winter Soldier had been so disturbing that she cannot recall how they even met.

Her research led to her psychotherapy and psychoanalysis, a controversial theory that promotes mental therapy by drifting into the unconscious mind. Being a telepath, Wanda's interest was piqued as to whether she could attach these therapeutic techniques on herself. The human brain, the most powerful organ of the body, can build up defense mechanisms to protect itself from traumatic experiences. Repressing those unwanted memories is one way the brain works to make the person forget, whether it is to save the person from suffering or to allow them to survive. Wanda was highly curious to find out if she could use her own powers against her mind and infiltrate into her unconscious to unlock the memories stored in there.

It was a large risk, however. Though she was aiming to do it with one goal in mind, to discover the connection between her and the Winter Soldier, there was the ever-present possibility that she could find something else, something darker in nature. After all, memories aren't repressed for kicks. Something very bad must have occurred for her mind to do all it could to force her to forget. Had the Winter Soldier tried to kill her? Did he abuse her? Did he torture her, or Pietro? What did he do that was so awful enough to drive her own mind to block it out of her conscious?

Wanda couldn't help but rethink about _The Manchurian Candidate_. It was public knowledge that Bucky Barnes had been brainwashed by HYDRA – how else would they have turned him into the Winter Soldier. Like Raymond Shaw in the film, Barnes had his head periodically messed with so that he wouldn't be able to remember his previous targets and have no emotion when sent out to repeat the blood shedding actions.

Wanda knew she was stretching it, but the chance that perhaps she had received the same treatment couldn't be ruled out. What if HYDRA had cleaned out her mind of knowing the Winter Soldier? It was worthy of a hypothesis. The first few months after Wanda woke up with her new powers were severely clouded. There were days, some weeks, where she drew up blanks. There were huge gaps in not just her memory, but Pietro's also. It was all very confusing, but Wanda had never thought of questioning it until now.

Repressed memories can be triggered, but Wanda's dreams weren't triggered. They just happened. And from what she could see and experience in them, there weren't signs of abuse or trauma. Instead, they were intimate and non-threatening. She felt safe in his arms, and pronounced her name as if he _knew_ her. Would have HYDRA brainwashed her as they did the Winter Soldier? And if they did, then what was the reason?

* * *

The compound was empty except for Sam, Vision and Wanda. Steve, Natasha and Rhodey were somewhere near the Amazon rainforest in Brazil tracking down an underground HYDRA ring, Tony and Maria had gone back to Stark Tower to handle his business ventures and to be closer to Pepper, and there was still no trace of Thor or Bruce.

When alone in times like this without Steve to keep her company, Wanda tried to keep busy. She often practiced yoga or exercised in their state-of-the-art gymnasium, watched online videos on how to play the guitar Sam and Maria had gifted her, and turned on the flat screen TV for the latest incoming of news. She tried to push away the fact that she was moving around all day so she wouldn't have a second to think about _him_.

On this particular day, after working out for almost an hour, Wanda showered and then went to the kitchen to make her green smoothie. She found Sam standing by the island with his back to her, his t-shirt spotted everywhere with dark circles from sweat. He had his headphones in and was focused on his phone as he nonchalantly bobbed his head and hips to the loud soul music emitting from the headset. Wanda paused briefly, beaming at Sam before continuing on quietly so she wouldn't interrupt him.

It worked until she turned on the blender. Sam slightly jumped, and turned his shoulder to see the little witch stifling back a giggle.

"Oh! Hey!" he yelled as he removed his headphones, letting them hang around his neck. "Didn't see you there."

"How was your workout?" she asked once the spinach leaves were blended. She opened the refrigerator and took out slices of mango, pineapple and bananas.

He stretched his arms over his head, letting out a groan. "Alright. I like doin' it by myself, stay at my own pace. It's nearly impossible keeping up with Cap,"

Wanda nodded in agreement. "Yes. He is a bit too much."

After she blended the ingredients for a second time, she went to grab a mason jar from the cabinet. Sam beat her to it, and handed it to her. She muttered a "thank you," and poured the slushy green liquid into the cup. She tightened on the straw lid and took a few gulps. Standing there, Sam leaned back on the counter and flipped through his phone, and Wanda distantly heard the music still playing, she couldn't make out the words but the funky beat was unmistakable.

"What are you listening to?"

Sam looked up from his phone and smiled. "James Brown. One of his live albums."

Wanda's brows creased in curiosity. "I do not think I have heard of him."

His jaw and shoulders dropped, his face full of astonishment. "Oh, we can't have that. No, no. Come here and listen."

Wanda smiled shamefacedly and took the headphones that Sam was offering. She slipped her smoothie as the volume was turned on and her ears were slathered with the rough but soulful voice of James Brown and his horn-filled melodies. Wanda didn't recognize the song, but it was very upbeat and she could see why Sam had been dancing earlier – it was hard not to.

She returned the headphones to him. "That was very nice. Where did he perform that?"

"The Apollo Theatre in Harlem, 1971."

"Where is that at?"

Sam gave her a look that made her feel as if she should know where this Harlem was. She blushed.

"Don't tell me you don't know about Harlem, Maximoff."

She put on her best innocent face and shook her head, silently slurping on her smoothie.

He chuckled. " _Damn_ , girl. You need to get out more."

"I really do," she hummed in conceding.

Sam crossed his arms over his chest and asked, "Why don't you then? Go sight-seeing? I'm sure Steve or the rest of them wouldn't mind if you left for a few hours. I'd let you know if we're called in."

Wanda stared at Sam in amazement, and mentally kicked herself in the gut. She had never thought about that, and he had said it like it was most obvious thing in the world. How this could've escaped her, she couldn't even begin to think about it. All this time, when she wasn't going with the team on missions, instead of being locked away in the compound for weeks at times, she could have just left and gone into the city. It would certainly provide a distraction from _him_. To be immersed among normal people and learning more about American cultures. It was the perfect outlet.

"What would I do without, Sam?" she praised him as she hurriedly walked back to her room with burning excitement.

Sam grinned. "Yeah, I know. I get that a lot."

She rode the elevator to the floor where her room was, downing the smoothie as fast as she could. Wiping out her phone from her back pocket, the time read 10:03 am. She smiled; it gave her plenty of time to spend the day away from the compound.

Placing the empty mason jar on her desk, she went straight to her closet and picked out a deep red trench coat that she fastened around her waist. She considered going in disguise, this time with a short curly black wig and glasses, but she ultimately decided against it. She wasn't going hide her face from the city she now called home. This wasn't an undercover mission, she wasn't pretending to be someone she was not. She was Wanda Maximoff, and she was going to go as her true self, unafraid of showing who she really was to the world. For one day, she was going to forget the huge weight on her shoulders that were placed upon her the second she agreed to become an Avenger. She was going to simply be Wanda for a day.

* * *

 **Harlem, New York**

It was a two-hour drive to the New York city borough of Manhattan. As per Sam's orders, Wanda was dropped off in the neighborhood of Harlem, and she'd led the chauffeur know where to pick her up. Closing the car door behind her, she breathed in the cold air, which instantly added a pink tinge to her cheeks. Adjusting the black beanie on her head, she stuffed her gloved hands in the pockets of the coat and started striding down the sidewalk. She didn't know what exact landmarks she was supposed to visit, but in the end, it didn't matter to her. She was just so happy to be outside the compound and doing something for her own enjoyment.

She walked for almost ten minutes when her childhood memories of Sokovia creeped up. It wasn't the same – it could never be – but the hard-working images of the neighborhood resonated with Wanda. It was a stark contrast to the pristine conditions of Washington, D.C., where almost everyone there were dressed professionally with clothes she knew were pricey and valued. Harlem was a completely different locale. The people that walked around her, were both old and young, minding their own business. There were markets and stores at every corner, a group of children walking to school, older cars running around rather than the modern automobiles she saw in the capital. The humble environment she was in, she couldn't help herself but think back to Sokovia, and even Brooklyn. Maybe not so strangely, she felt at ease.

Wanda walked for a couple more minutes, and when the cold weather became too much, she caught sight of the subway. She had never ridden the subway before. From Steve's stories, it was _the_ way to transport yourself around the city. Wanda read the signage of the station, 145 Street, and walked down the stairs to the underground subway station. The long corridor was, for a Thursday noon, not overtly crowded. She bought a ticket and stood on the platform, the collars of her coat raised so that she wouldn't be noticed. The train appeared after some time, and she stepped inside, finding it sporadically filled. She quickly skimmed through the seats around her, and found an area to her left that wasn't as packed. She sat down and rubbed her cold nose, sniffing a bit. When the train started moving, she twisted her waist to allow her to look outside the windowpane and getting a better view of Harlem.

There was some rustling beside her, but thinking nothing of it, Wanda continued to leer at the fast-moving neighborhood. It wasn't until she felt a poke on her shoulder that she realized someone was sitting next to her. Body already tensed, Wanda turned around to see a little Hispanic girl with big brown eyes, no more than ten years of age, with gaze of inquisitiveness.

"Oh, hello," Wanda greeted her with a smile.

The girl kept her head low, eyes glint with conjecture. "Are you the Scarlet Witch?" she whispered in awe.

Well, so much for not getting caught. Wanda looked around them, making sure no one was listening to their conversation, and whispered back, "You will not tell anyone?"

The girl hurriedly shook her head. Instead, she breathed out, "Wow. A real Avenger…"

Wanda kept her poise, but she was feeling funny, seeing how the little girl peered at her with pure, innocent wonder. She had never been looked at that before, much less from a kid who wouldn't understand what she had endured. But then it dawned on her that the girl called her an Avenger, who saved the world from alien invasion. Though Wanda hadn't been part of that, she was still part of the group of people with powers, of superheroes, that protect the planet. That is how the girl was looking at her; she considered Wanda a superhero.

The train was coming to a stop. The girl's head snapped the other way when a loud, accent-filled voice yelled, "Teresa! Come on, let's go." When the dark-haired lady saw Teresa sitting next to Wanda, she grabbed her daughter's hand, pulling up her to stand, and gave Wanda an apologetic look. "Sorry if she bothering you. _¿Qué te dije sobre hablando con extraños_ (What did I tell you about talking to strangers)?"

"I wasn't, ma." Teresa whined.

Wanda remained quiet, and waved goodbye to the little girl when the slide doors opened and her mother rushed them both out. She didn't stop smiling the rest of the ride, running through her head the flash of admiration that besotted little Teresa's face at being in the presence of Wanda, an Avenger. It reminded her of the reactions that Steve, Tony, Natasha or Sam had gotten, and to be at the end of a similar response, it really warmed Wanda's heart.

She stayed on till the next stop, which was 125 Street. Hitching up her collars, Wanda exited the train onto the icy platform, and following where most of the people were going, walked up the stairs into the busy intersection of St Nicholas Avenue and West 125th Street. Wanda observed her surroundings, wondering where she should go, when she saw the distant but distinctive red-colored letters with a yellow background, spelling out vertically the name Apollo. Remembering back on her earlier conversation with Sam, he had mentioned the Apollo Theatre. Was that the one? Without a minute to waste, Wanda went to find out.

These streets were more packed, but it didn't slow down Wanda's pace. She kept her eyes on the sign that grew in size as she neared, and when she finally saw the exterior of the building, and the slight crowd in front of the doors. She thought about crossing the street and enter the Theatre, but when licking her lips and swallowing, she suddenly realized her throat was parched from the icy temperatures. Gripping her wallet inside her pocket, she looked lamentably at the Apollo and continued forward, looking for a restaurant, preferably a low-lying one, not too big to attract attention.

She walked another block until coming across a small diner. Sensing there were little customers inside, she decided this was a good spot and walked in. There was a young hostess at the entrance, who took her to a booth next to a window. Wanda thanked her and gazed briefly at the menu, already knowing what she wanted. She lowered her collar and unfastened her belt slightly, reaching into her pocket to check her phone. No missed calls or texts.

An older tanned woman appeared with a notepad, her black hair tied back into a bun. "What can I get you today, miss?" she asked nicely.

Wanda handed her the menu and with a friendly smile, answered, "A hot coffee, please."

As soon as their eyes connected, the woman's demeanor changed. Her dark eyes widened in realization and she faltered backwards. "Oh. You… you're…"

"Uh…" Wanda stuttered, not knowing what to do except trying to find a way to leave.

"Oh, I'm sorry," the woman said awkwardly and pining her pen behind her ear, extended her hand to Wanda, who shook it. "My name is Soledad Temple, I own this diner. Don't worry, I won't tell anybody," she added lowly.

Wanda pursed her lips and offered a half-smile. "Thanks."

Soledad started looking around, like she was trying to find someone. "But, um, my daughter, Claire, she is a nurse. And she helps people like you. _Enhanced_."

Wanda cocked her chin closer to her, raising a brow. "She does?"

"Who are you talking to about me, _mamí_?" the female voice came from behind her. Wanda followed Soledad's gaze to the young woman walking up to them. She resembled Soledad, from the dark brown eyes to the black hair and olive complexion. At seeing Wanda, her jaw slightly dropped and her mouth parted. "Oh my God!"

Soledad rubbed her daughter's shoulder. "I will leave you two to it," she said before departing.

She pointed to the seat across from Wanda, excitedly taking it when Wanda nodded. Beaming at her, she introduced herself. "My name's Claire Temple. And you're Wanda Maximoff. One of the Avengers. Wow… Sorry if I'm at a loss for words, I just… I never thought I'd meet an Avenger, much less in my mom's diner, ya know?"

"She mentioned that you help enhanced people, like me?"

Claire nodded. "Yeah. I'm a nurse. I used to work for Metro-General in Hell's Kitchen. I don't anymore so now I'm just helping out whenever I'm needed. Patch 'em up if I have to."

Though Claire's aura was a compassionate one, Wanda still hesitated before asking, "Who have you helped, if you do not mind telling me?"

"There is Matt Murdock and Jessica Jones down in Hell's Kitchen, and Luke Cage right here in Harlem," Claire stated.

Hearing those names, Wanda's mind flew back to when she had wandered into Tony's ginormous lab. She found Steve there, the men conspicuously speaking about the news outlet that were reporting on people possessing abilities around New York. "I believe I have heard those names before…"

Claire's face was back to being astounded. "Really?"

Soledad came back with her cup of coffee, placing it in front of Wanda. She ripped off some sugar packets and tapped it into her coffee with her ring-clad finger. "Yes, the Avengers like to keep an eye out on people like us. They prefer to be informed."

"O-kay. That's… The Avengers know of Luke, Matt and Jessica. Wow," she gasped, eyes still wide and staring off into nothing. When she regained her composure, she chuckled and laid out her hands flat on the table, a grin on her full lips. "So. What brings _you_ to Harlem?"

Taking a sip, she truthfully answered, "I wanted a day to myself. Forget about everything that is bad about this world for a few hours. To just be _me_."

"Yeah, I totally understand. As someone who isn't like you, it definitely takes getting used to being around you guys. Sometimes I need to step away from it all because it just gets overwhelming, you know? Or, well, I guess my definition of overwhelming is different than yours."

Wanda begged to differ. "It _is_ relatable. We are both trying to save lives."

Claire softened. "Yeah. You're right." A few seconds passed by, with Wanda focused on the activity outside the diner. She didn't look at Claire when she said, "Hey, I don't mean to intrude or anything, but are you okay? You seem, I don't know, a little bit… distracted."

At this, Wanda turned to Claire and her cheeks burned with embarrassment. Chuckling, she asked, "It is that noticeable?"

Claire nodded, and then did something that caught Wanda so off-guard. She wavered, checking Wanda's reaction as she raised one hand and rested it upon Wanda's hand in an attempt to show her empathy. "You can trust me, Wanda."

Inadvertently, Wanda instantly saw into Claire's head, flashes of fast-moving images running of her most recent past. She saw her efforts in the hospital, back and forth with a new patient and straining to keep all of them alive. But most importantly, it was the positive quality that Claire exhibited, the lengths she went to help her patients stay alive. She was determined, full of kindness and grace in a situation of grave alertness and concentration. There were few people in the world that Wanda has come across like Claire Temple, whose humanity practically oozed out of her.

Feeling her faith in Claire wouldn't be misplaced, Wanda opened up. "It's just… have you ever met someone and maybe you have already me them before, but you cannot remember?"

Claire considered this, but then shook her head. "No, I actually haven't that to me. No yet, anyways. Is that what you're going through? You met someone who think you've already met?"

"Yes. It is really odd. I haven't met the person, but when I see his picture, something in me changes. I have dreams, and I wonder if they are memories."

"Well, I'm not a therapist or psychologist, but it kinda sounds like your brain is trying to remember something that happened in your past that you must've buried," Claire explained. "And from what I read, you had a hard upbringing, living in a war-torn country like Sokovia as an orphan, and then you volunteering for HYDRA, and of course, your brother. It's not out of the realm of possibility that after all that, there could be missing time in your memories. The brain, it does what it can to protect your conscious, and most of the time, we don't even realize it."

Wanda released a heavy sigh and leaned back into the booth. "I just wish I knew more about the person."

"I won't ask you who it is, that's your business, but I do know someone who could help out in that department," Claire offered. She took out her phone and scanned through her contacts. "She's a private investigator, and a damn good one at that. Her name is Jessica Jones, one of the enhanced people I was talking about earlier –" Finding the contact, she showed it to Wanda. "This is the name and address of her agency if you wanted to drop by there."

Wanda grabbed her own phone, along with 5 dollars, and wrote down the contact. She also glimpsed at the time, and decided it was time to leave if she wanted to visit the private investigator. She texted her chauffeur to come pick her up. Once done, she looked at Claire and smiled affectionately. "Thank you so much, Claire. I hope to see you again."

Claire gave her a friendly _tsk_ and shrugged. "No problem. It's not every day that I get to lend a hand to an Avenger."

* * *

As Wanda waited for her chauffeur, she wandered around the block, the conversation with Claire Temple rewinding in her mind. She hadn't expected it to take a turn into the vague topic of Bucky Barnes; after all, the purpose of her trip into the city was to enjoy herself. But she couldn't, not really. No matter how hard she tried to push away any lingering questions for just a couple hours, the confusion was still written all over her and it was so blatant that even a total stranger like Claire saw it. And once she highlighted that dilemma, it had resurfaced so quickly, reminding her of the genuine reason she was out of the compound.

She wanted to brush off Bucky Barnes. It somewhat worked, just not as long as she had expected.

Taking a seat on the bench across the corner of the street, Wanda sighed and dug into her coat pocket. She looked at her phone, reading the contact Claire had given her. Jessica Jones, Alias Investigations. By car, it was a twenty-minute drive.

 _Don't go. It's the opposite of what you came to do_ , said a little voice in the back of her head. She bit her lower lip, well aware that it was right. She needn't go searching for trouble, because that is exactly what she would find if she went to the private investigator. Perhaps it was for the best that she stay away from learning the truth about her dreams since there was always a chance it might not be what she would want to hear. Was she willing to risk everything to know if she indeed had an association with the Winter Soldier?

Wanda's reverie was interrupted by a honk coming across the street. It was the black Chevy SUV. Gritting her teeth in annoyance, she went to the car and handed her phone to the chauffeur.

"Take me to that address," she instructed.

* * *

 **Hell's Kitchen, New York**

Climbing up the stairs of the run-down apartment, it didn't take long to find the agency. At the end of the hallway, written on a half glass door, read Alias Investigations. Wanda remained in her spot for a few moments, wondering if what she was doing was something she'd later regret. She didn't have to do it; she could easily walk back to the car and pretend she had never been there. There was no reason to persisting the hunt for him, it was useless.

But no matter how much she wanted to drill into her heart that it wasn't worth it, Wanda's feet marched her right down the hallway and delivering three knocks on the door. When nobody answered, Wanda thought it was miracle and nearly turned on her heel, but then the door swung open to reveal a tall disheveled woman with jet black hair, a pointed nose and pale skin. She appeared to have been sleeping, but her bed eyes rose exponentially once she got a good look at Wanda and realized who was standing at her doorstep.

"Oh shit," she slurred.

Wanda cleared her throat. "Are you Jessica Jones?"

"Yeah…"

Wanda motioned to the apartment. "You work for Alias Investigations?"

"This is it," she deadpanned.

"My name –"

Jessica carelessly waved a hand, her impatience simmering. "I know who you are. What the hell do you want?"

"I got this address from Claire Temple. She said that you are a private investigator and you could possibly help me."

Jessica's eyes narrowed, her body tensioning even more. "Depends."

Wanda inhaled and swallowed back any residual uncertainty. "I am trying to look for any information you have on the Winter Soldier.

"Yeah, you came to the wrong person," Jessica was already closing the door on her. "Have a nice day."

"Wait!" Wanda insisted, her hexes itching to swing the door back open, but opted to simply plant her palm on the window. "Please hear me out."

Jessica's suspicion rose, and it was clear she didn't care about who Wanda was or what powers she possessed, which made Wanda contemplate what her ability was to be so impertinent to someone like her. "Why? If there's anyone that should know more about the Winter Soldier than the U.S. government, it's the Avengers. Which _you_ are a part of."

"If we did, we would have caught him by now."

Jessica rolled her eyes. "Look, this fight to bring down HYDRA, that's your problem, okay? The Avengers' problem. I certainly don't want to join in, much less be in the middle of it."

"All I need is information," Wanda exasperated. "I am not asking for anything more or less. We want to find him so we can fix him. Please, Ms. Jones."

Jessica let go of the door and sighed loud, crossing her arms over her chest. She silently scrutinized Wanda for a few seconds before smacking her teeth and sighing again. "First thing's first: don't ever call me Ms. Jones. It makes me feel some type of way."

She allowed for Wanda to enter her apartment, and guided her to her relatively empty living room, which was also her office. Flopping down on her chair behind her mess of a desk, Jessica perked her head to the side and slightly pointed her chin at Wanda.

"Alright. What do you wanna know?"

Folding her hands on her lap, Wanda unflinchingly regarded Jessica. "Everything you have on him."

Jessica snorted. "That's a long list."

"I don't care."

Jessica eyed her, not with cynicism this time, but rather she was perplexed at the apparent lack of knowledge of the Avenger. Especially for one who could read minds. "Well, we all know who the Winter Soldier is. James Buchanan Barnes, best friend of Steve Rogers aka Captain America. Country thought he was dead, when all this time he's had his brain picked apart by HYDRA and brainwashed to be their machine-killing minion."

"How did the government find out it was Barnes?" When Jessica raised a brow, Wanda elaborated,"I was still in Sokovia when that happened, so I don't..."

"Oh, right. You were a lab experiment of HYDRA's too." Wanda opened her mouth to defend herself, but Jessica cut her off. "You don't have to explain yourself to me, witch. Anyways, the public found out when the Triskelion, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s headquarters, was destroyed. It was discovered he had been given some of that super serum when he was captured during the war, and it was the serum that saved his life after falling from the train.

"And then there is the arm, which you should know about. Well, until the Triskelion, no one knew who the Winter Soldier was. Even in the intelligence world, he was pretty much mythical. He'd come out of nowhere and disappear just as quickly, a pattern that would repeat for 60 years. Some thought he was being kept frozen, others thought it was multiple men made to seem like one. But he was feared, and that's exactly what HYDRA wanted. Up until Cap, or even Nick Fury really, the Winter Soldier had never failed in killing a target."

Wanda held her breath. "Go on. Please."

Jessica appeared like she didn't want to, but she bit her tongue and continued. "After D.C. and his true identity was revealed, I became a bit interested in him. I risked my life getting the information, but I did it because I knew that the Avengers were gonna go after him. If not them, there without a doubt, Steve Rogers would."

"You risked your life, but I thought you did not like the Avengers."

"I never said that," Jessica scoffed. "I'd just rather separate myself from _that_. But it doesn't mean I'm an insensitive person who wouldn't help them if they needed it, under the right circumstances, of course. Getting info on Bucky Barnes wasn't hard. It was the Winter Soldier alter ego that complicated things. We know he's carried out over two dozen assassinations, but who exactly did he kill, the government won't say. That was the angle I worked on, and according to the shit loud of documents going back decades, the Winter Soldier gunned down both Kennedy brothers, Martin Luther King, Jr., Malcolm X, Gandhi, a Prime Minister from Pakistan and another one from Israel… and other people."

Wanda became stern in her seat, edging more towards the desk. "What other people? Do you know their names?"

"I don't think you'd want to know more, you get the gist –"

"Jessica."

She sighed and held her arms up in surrender. "Alright, just wait a sec…" She rose up and disappeared into her room, returning with a box full of files. She set it on her desk and skimmed through it, grabbing one file in her hand and sitting back down. When Jessica looked back at Wanda, it was apprehensive. "He also killed Tony Stark's parents, Howard and Maria Stark."

The hairs on the back of Wanda's neck flew up. "What?"

Jessica moved aside the box and flipped open the file, laying it flat on her desk for Wanda to see. "Took me nearly a year to get my hands on a copy of the surveillance footage on the night of their deaths. They had a car accident, but it wasn't an accident. The Winter Soldier caused it and executed them."

Right there, in front of her eyes, three black and white images dated December 16, 1991, showing the distinguishable Winter Soldier who held a man by the back of his hair, his metal fist in midair aimed at the man. The second picture caught the Winter Soldier standing next to the passenger seat, his human arm disappearing into the car to presumably choke whomever was sitting there, and the final picture, depicting his face as he pointed his gun to the camera filming the entire murder. Wanda's legs shook, forcing her to sit back down as she felt her fingers go numb at touching the photographs. "My God… This has never been shown to the public?

Jessica shook her head. "Uh-uh. HYDRA made sure it wouldn't be traced back to them."

"Oh my God," Wanda whispered, her hand covering her mouth in shock. She tore away from the pictures, unable to bare see them without risking her green smoothie coming back up. She just stayed in her seat, tightly gripping the arm of the chair as she attempted to calm her nerves.

Witnessing this, Jessica's disposition was automatically abated, for she understood exactly what Wanda was experiencing. "Listen… I'm not gonna justify his actions, because they can't be, ever. But… he was mind-controlled the entire time. He didn't have any power over HYDRA. They manipulated him and systematically ripped him apart. And I say this because I know that feeling all too well."

"What do you mean?"

Jessica paused. "Have you killed a person?"

There was that question again. "No."

"I have," Jessica admitted in a tone of sorrow. "Against my own will. I was his slave, totally under his control, and no matter how hard I told myself to not push that woman in front of a bus, it was useless. I did, and she died. So, I can relate to whatever he's going through right now. Wherever he is, he's dealing with the blood on his hands, alone with his demons. That's another reason why he got my interest. We have something in common."

Wanda nodded solemnly, her senses finally picking up on the grief and remorse that Jessica tried so very hard to conceal. She didn't have to read her mind to decipher the truth behind her rude and sardonic – and from the empty liquor glasses lying around, hard-drinking – personality. Jessica empathized with Bucky Barnes because, like she said, they both experienced a similar type of horrors. She was filled with guilt, self-loathing, over the death of a young woman she directly caused. It might not have been _her_ that did it, but it was her hands that pushed the woman onto the way of the incoming bus. And if that tragedy was what Jessica left unstable, Wanda could only imagine what Bucky Barnes was going through.

She lightly cleared her throat, wiping her sweaty hands on her coat and extended her arm to Jessica. "Thank you, Jessica. For everything you have told me."

Jessica shook her hand, nodding. "Yeah. Sure."

Wanda left without another word between them. She climbed into the waiting SUV and directed the chauffeur to take her back to the compound. The entire ride, it took immense strength for Wanda not to collapse into an inner emotional turmoil. She had to swallow back the bile that was simmering in her throat, her eyes burning of unshed tears. She'd gotten answers, answers that would've not been found on the Internet, but know she knew why it had been kept secret for so many years. They were appalling, downright evil. Bucky Barnes had been saved only to be transformed into a puppet HYDRA called the Winter Soldier. God, he killed Tony's parents! Tony couldn't possibly know… but did Steve? Was the information that Jessica Jones told her in that file in Steve's room? Was that the reason Steve didn't want Wanda to help him find Bucky, because they'd be bringing back the murderer of several political figures, including Tony's parents?


	6. Chapter 6

**February 2016 – New Avengers Facility**

They made it a habit of spending the night together before either or both were to report for a mission the following morning. On this specific night, Steve was laying down on Wanda's bed. Wanda was the one to be dispatched alongside Sam, Tony and Rhodey for a week-long undercover assignment in northwestern Romania. But it was also different. Rather than watching TV or reading a novel, Steve had other things in mind. In particular, he wanted to spend the entire night cocooned in Wanda's slender arms.

Lights off, masked by darkness save for the moonlight's essence peeking through the opened blinds of her bedroom windows, the covers were mushed at the end of the bed. Wanda's fingers massaged Steve's scalp, her legs spread apart for Steve to be comfortable as he hovered above her, mouths bruising against one another.

They have had several passionate nights, but Wanda could sense this was shaping up to be a night unlike any other. He had barely left her side the entire day, and she had supposed that it was because she was leaving for a week. He was going to miss her, so of course he wanted to devote as much time with her.

But then when Steve came to her room that night, it wasn't hard to guess his carnal need. Steve craved ardently for Wanda, and she enthusiastically fed him. She had never seen a man look at her with such adoration and love as Steve showered her when she first opened the door, and though the back of her mind had screamed to remind her she was still a virgin, Wanda was too excited by her growing appetite to fully comprehend what they were in the midst of doing.

Steve's lips traced her jaw, and Wanda tipped her head back to give him ample space to ravage her neck and collarbone. She tightened her legs on his waist, eliciting a dark groan from Steve when she felt his erection through her pajama shorts. She tugged on his blonde hair, shoving his face to her neck that he immediately licked and kissed, and she responded by running her free arm down his hardened back of muscles covered with a plain white t-shirt.

Desperate to rub his skin on hers, Wanda pushed his t-shirt over his head, letting it slip down to the floor. She moaned at the sight of his chest, her lithe fingers gripping his toughened shoulders as she made him come back on her and kiss her with burning passion. She waited for him to return the gesture on her shirt-covered chest, but Steve did no such thing. Always the gentleman, he wouldn't remove her clothing unless she started it, which was a sign to him that she wanted it as much as he did.

Wanda yanked it off, exposing her bare breasts to him, and she looked up at him, mouth agape as she tried to catch her breath. Steve stared down, just like the three other times that Wanda had stripped half-naked for him. His calloused fingers massaged the pink-brownish nipples, making Wanda close her eyes for a second and bit her lower lip to stop from whimpering.

"Oh, Wanda," he purred, his pupils entirely dilated. "You're so beautiful."

She gasped when his head dipped into the darkness and took one breast into his mouth. He had never done that before. But Wanda was quickly in an excessive trance, something she had never felt. She was drowning in the depths of pleasure, so far down she was rapidly descending that she was rendered incoherent and couldn't breathe. It didn't matter, though, because the wet spot in between their thighs was calling for attention, and with each passing second it was growing harder and harder to ignore. Every lick of Steve's tongue on her perky nipples, her entrance down below was aching to be stimulated, her stomach twisting with tempted lust.

Unable to continue the anticipation, Wanda clutched Steve's sweating cheeks and brought him up to her lips, trading sloppy kisses. Steve gripped her thighs, hitching them up to enclose around his waist. She instinctively bucks her hips towards his, and it finally dawns on Steve on what is just about to happen.

He pulls back from the embrace. "Wanda… I… I don't –" His voice was laced with uncertainty but also unreserved want as he caressed her cheek.

Wanda shushed him, her index finger tracing the outline of his red abused lips. She understood why he was holding back – not only because she was virgin, but so was he. He was inexperienced and he didn't want to disappoint. She raised her neck slightly to give him an endearing kiss. "I want _you_ , Steve. No one else."

For good measure, Wanda slinked her hand inside his sweatpants, finding he wasn't wearing anything underneath. She took hold of his slick erection and squeezed it, earning her a predatory growl that would've made her turn tomato red in the face if she hadn't been so determined.

"Just you," she whispered into his mouth.

Steve wasted no more time in obliging. He returned to taking over Wanda's mouth aggressively while his hands worked on removing his sweatpants. Once he tossed that piece of clothing offside, he went for Wanda's shorts and underwear. He groaned when he realized she was soaking wet for him, and once his fingers cupped her sensitive folds of flesh, a wave of indescribable pleasure rolled through Wanda and she moaned loudly.

Her legs shook as she tried to press her strength on his waist to bring their bodies closer. Sensing her impatience, Steve peppers kisses on her neck as he adjusts himself near her entrance, enjoying how rough her nails scrape against his scalp. Without another moment's notice, Steve slides right in, causing both to gasp at the penetration. He remained stilled, her inner walls tight around his membrane. After Wanda made no noise of protest, he slowly pumped out and back in, and the long wanton moan that he received was all it took for Steve to be released from his hesitance.

It was their first time making love, and Wanda was encumbered in absolute bliss, her mind focused on nothing except the handsome man above her panting relentlessly. Fingernails dug deep into his skin, leaving a trail of small crescent-like marks.

She doesn't stop clawing his shoulders, and when her moans turn into guttural whines, Steve untangles one leg from his waist and props it up on his shoulder. Both nearly falling apart when he hits _that_ spot within Wanda. Steve continues his maddening pace, so desperate to take them over the edge of ecstasy.

The slap of perspiring skin reverberates through her room, quickening until Wanda arches her back to Steve's chest, and the sensation of her hard nipples grazing his pecs is the final push for his orgasm to come spewing out of him. Wanda follows soon afterwards, and is left in a trembling and messy state from her high. She has to bite on her lower lip to keep from moaning when Steve slips out from her, but a little noise from the back of her throat still escapes, earning her a tiny knowing smirk.

They got cozy under the sheets, Wanda's worn-out body spread halfway on Steve's arm and his chest. She sighed contently, her eyelids fluttering to a close.

"I really don't want you going tomorrow."

Wanda kept her eyes shut as she responded, "I will be fine. Don't worry."

He didn't answer immediately, but he didn't have to – his tensed body was enough answer for her. Steve couldn't help but be worried; Wanda had always gone when he did, and he couldn't imagine what he'd do if she got hurt and he wasn't there to protect her. He respected her ability to protect herself, he knew she could, but she was _his girl_. Steve wanted her safe, that was all.

Wanda rubbed his chest and kissed it, as if she had felt his lingering reluctance. "Sleep, Steve."

He eventually did, never once letting go of his girl the rest of the night.

* * *

 _It had to have been him. It just had to be._

 _It was for only a second, but that's all it took. Just one second._

 _His profile was exactly as from the pictures. Worn out cap covering long black hair, jaw covered in facial hair, stocky built. His face is literally etched into my memory, and I just know that it was him I saw turning that corner in the park._

 _I've just returned from a mission in Cluj-Napoca. Sam, Stark, Rhodes, and I had been sent there to apprehend a group of HYDRA Communists planning an attack against the Romanian government. Stark and Rhodes wanted to catch them in the middle of the act so we were there for a week, hidden away from them. We tracked their movement day and night, checking for any shipments made. Activity rose as days passed, and on the sixth day, we started prepping for intervention._

 _The plan was simple: I would be sitting on a park bench, pretending to read a book on the day that we believed the group would make their move. It was across from an abandoned-looking building where they were headquartered at. I had been sitting there for nearly half an hour, drinking from a hot cup of chocolate. While I tried my best to not grow restless, Stark had no reservations. He was starting doubt whether we received the wrong intel, and Rhodes had to step in and calm him down._

 _And then when I looked up, surveying my surroundings once again, I saw HIM._

 _I remember my whole body freezing. The cup of chocolate slipped from my hand and fell to the ground. It got hard to breathe. I couldn't even blink – all I could see were the filed pictures of him. The pictures from the museum. The pictures that Jessica Jones showed me. It matched up perfectly, and if not for Rhodes' voice suddenly booming in my ear asking me if something was wrong, I was another second away from running after him._

 _If I had done that, I would've exposed us and ruined the whole mission. But in that moment, I didn't care. I just wanted to run up to him and ask him the one question that's been haunting me for months now: did we know each other when we were with HYDRA?_

 _I can't ever recall being in his presence, much less hearing his name or know of his existence. But I just cannot shake the feeling that I_ _did_ _know him. I can't explain it for the life of me why I believe this, but the more I learn about this Bucky Barnes and the Winter Soldier, the more my heart screams at my mind to remember. What exactly, I don't have a damn clue._

 _What I really want to do is go to Steve and tell him the whole truth. It could clear so many things up. But if he still hasn't told me about Bucky Barnes, then that must mean he doesn't_ _want_ _me to know. But why? Why wouldn't he want me to know? Why is he hiding this from me?_

 _Maybe he doesn't fully trust me, after all this time..._

* * *

 **March 2016 – Bucharest, Romania**

It was overcast when his tired eyes blinked open. He wasn't as out of breath and trashing on his mattress as he usually was whenever he jolted awake. No, this morning, he had woken up on his own accord. He hadn't dreamt of anything, and though the last time that happened was long ago, he was thankful for that mercy. Perhaps his poor mind had finally exhausted itself to torture him for another night.

He stretched his limbs, whirring noises coming from his prosthetic arm. He was slowly becoming more used to sleeping with it, didn't even hurt as much when he slept on it. He looked down at his left collarbone and his entire shoulder that was metal. He rubbed the area instinctively, over the reddish part of skin where the metal clashed with his human skeleton.

When his palm browsed by the communist red star, there was momentary lapse of memory that replayed itself. He was on top of the perch of a building, sniper rifle in his grip as he looked through the peephole and aimed at his target exiting a limousine way down on the street.

The crack that echoes through the air as the bullet flies to the back of his target's neck rings in his ears. He shook his head, as if that motion would suddenly make that memory disappear. His metal hand balled into a fist, and although he knew he was on his bed and not behind the rifle, anger and regret swept through him so fast that he had to get up and walk to the balcony.

Gritting his teeth, he gripped the railing in fear of falling not over the ledge but risk turning into _the monster_. He'd manage for the last couple of months to keep that side of him dormant, but the mental effort it required was exhausting.

There was a light easterly wind that blew back his wisps of dark hair that hung a curtain around his face. He raised his eyes a bit into the horizon, relaxing his jaw and inhaling the air that the wind offered to him. He breathed in and out a couple times, the memory of one of his past assassinations slowly creeping back into the crevices of a brain that was oppressed beyond belief. When he found his serenity, he sighed and returned to the haven of his apartment.

After splashing cold water on his face, he gazed at the calendar hanging on the wall, checking again to see if today was the correct day. Resigned, he folded the little towel used to dry his face and hands, and went to change. He had to go buy himself a treat.

* * *

The temperature was just beginning to warm in Bucharest, but with the constant cover of grey clouds dominating the sky, he decided to drop by the closest bakery near him. Dressed in a black cap, dark clothing and black gloves, he walked through the streets in silence, a stark contrast to the high-pitched sounds of city life. Head low and hands tucked in his jacket, eyes always on alert for any disturbance directed either towards him or to the civilians. Nothing's happened in the seven months that he's lived in Bucharest, but he can't ever let his guard down, no thanks to his survival instincts kicking up a notch after Washington.

As he strides to the bakery, he was glad to see it empty of customers. Even though it's just his third time going to the place, he was conscientiously aware that people who frequent there could remember him. He never visited a location more than five times, whether it was the market or a store. It was a new venue any time he stepped outside, to minimize the danger of getting recognized. It was the only method to use because he knew that the American government was after him, and if he wasn't mistaken, so were Steve Rogers and the Avengers. And he wasn't yet ready to turn himself in.

There was a bell that rang when he entered the bakery, the smell of bread invading his nose. He looked around the counter, not taking long to choose what he wanted. He licked his dry lips at the sight of a chocolate-covered cake that stood out of a wide array of baked pastries and sweet delicacies. He was surprised to feel his stomach churn, and his human fingers scrunched the money in his jacket pocket, eager to pay for the cake and take it home.

A tiny elderly lady with fading white hair and wrinkling skin appeared from the entrance behind the counter, offering a kind smile at the man standing in her bakery.

" _Bună dimineața, tinere_ (Good morning, young man)," she greeted. " _Ce doriți să obțineți astăzi_ (What would you like to get today)?"

" _Acest tort de ciocolată, vă rog_ (This chocolate cake, please)." he spoke lowly as he pointed to the glass.

She slipped on a transparent glove and bent down to slide the handle, grabbing the cake that he wanted. It was already packaged, the old woman fixing it up with a bag for him to carry. He paid the amount, leaving some extra tip for her, and left.

He headed back in the direction of his apartment, too hungry to notice the light pep in his step, his shoulders not hunched over or his gloved hand, the human one, freely moving back and forth as he held onto the bag. He was rather loose, but it didn't bother him. For once, he wasn't worried about a single damn thing. What he was going through and what he had done. Pacing down the sidewalk, among normal people who had no idea who he was, was enlightening. It didn't matter if he deserved that rare emotion of freedom; it was there for the taking and he was going to take full advantage of it, no matter how small it would last.

Getting close to his apartment building, there was a newsstand that he was passing by, and a certain headline caught his attention. Slowing down to glance, he realized it was press coverage of the trial of the three leaders of the HYDRA Communist sector that the Avengers busted in Cluj-Napoca. Interest piqued, he approached the vendor, paying him for the newspaper. He stuffed it into the bag and continued.

* * *

Legs crossed on his mattress, he forked the cake and stuffed his mouth with a large chunk of it, moaning at how delicious it tasted. In front of him, the newspaper laid open to the section discussing the trial, which the media speculated that would end with guilty charges for each man. They also heaped praise on the Avengers, namely Tony Stark, Colonel James Rhodes, Sam Wilson and Wanda Maximoff who apprehended the criminals. There was a picture of the four of them, posing outside the Victoria Palace alongside the Prime Minister of Romania.

Putting the plate of cake off to the side, he stared at the colored image, namely at Wanda Maximoff. The pad of his index finger hovered over her, almost as if he was afraid of touching her. Besides Steve, she was the second most intriguing person alive to him. There was so much about her that he didn't know, but at the same time, he kind of did. He _knew_ her, from what his dreams showed him. He had known her while they were at the HYDRA research base in Sokovia. The purpose of it wasn't clear, at least not yet.

But if there was one thing he was certain of, was that being in her presence, had a huge effect on him. He had read up on her powers and what she was capable of, but it had nothing to do with that aspect. He had been across the intersection from the park where she was sitting, doing the exact same thing the Avengers had been doing for a week. He had been staking out the sector, but unlike them, he had already known about it. For almost a month ahead.

He had several hideouts throughout the country, and when he had gone to Cluj, that is where he first heard the inside rumblings of possible HYDRA agents roaming around. He made sure to steer away from their path, but he still had eyes on them, and waited for the Avengers to interfere. He repeated to himself the only reason he stayed in Cluj that long was to see the sector uncovered. It was, but only partly. Because part of him ached to catch a glimpse of Steve Rogers or Wanda Maximoff up close; hell, maybe even Natasha Romanoff. He was beginning to get desperate to actually see them, just a single second. He didn't even really know why he felt that way, but he didn't care to find out.

When it was Wanda Maximoff who sat on that bench, pretending to read a book, he hid in the shadows, staying out of the way of the Avengers. Instead, he leered at her from the corner of a building. Her face was just like from his dreams, her hair the same color of a warm brown, long and waved curls at the ends. Her cheeks were pink against her peachy skin, and he definitely remembered that blush from his more intimate dreams – the ones where she was naked under him, kissing him. He was confused as ever when he had those dreams, because it made no sense as to how he, or _the monster_ , could have had sexual relationships. If HYDRA would've allowed such intimacy, which he highly doubted.

Lifting the fork for eat another piece of cake, he chewed quietly as he cut out Wanda Maximoff's form from the picture. Closing the newspaper and effortlessly flinging it to the table some feet away, he placed the picture on the mattress. He then raised the plate and took another bite, reminiscing about her. He wished that she hadn't looked at his way, he had low-key wanted to see her in action. With those telekinetic abilities of hers, she was simply spectacular.

He wondered why Steve Rogers hadn't been there. Over the past few months, he'd gather that the Avengers didn't always serve together unless it was major global security threat. But even so, it was a tad alarming for Steve Rogers to be absent from detaining a rogue HYDRA subdivision. The newspaper noted that, but also argued the Avengers would've been just as successful with or without the Captain's help.

Eating the last piece of chocolate cake, he also wondered if Steve Rogers knew today was his birthday.


End file.
